Tell You Who You Are
by Pemmican
Summary: AU. What if Draco Malfoy had a mind of his own, and realised the hypocrisy of the Malfoy principles? On hiatus...
1. Prologue

**Are people inherently good, or bad? Some may think that it depends on the surroundings one grows up in — then again, the outcome is different for everyone. Take the Black family, for example.**

**There are individuals like Bellatrix Lestrange, who is an eager follower of pureblood traditions and values. Then there are others who, like Andromeda Tonks, change their worldviews halfway through their life for reasons like love. And finally, there are those who wholeheartedly reject the values and beliefs which had been taught to them from an early age; an example of this is Sirius Black.**

**What if Draco Malfoy had a mind of his own, and realised the hypocrisy of the Malfoy principles?**

* * *

Prologue

His mother stood by the front door, apologising profusely to the guests.

The eight-year-old looked on as a bawling Pansy Parkinson and a loudly swearing Blaise Zabini were dragged away by their parents. They were followed by the families Crabbe and Goyle, whose sons actually looked bewildered —

"_Draco Malfoy! What in the name of Merlin were you thinking?!_"

Said boy started, then dropped his eyes onto the marble floor. He shrugged, and tried to look as nonchalant as possible.

"_I cannot believe you ruined your very own birthday party! Really, is it so hard to get along with the other children? Why did you—_"

_Tap-tap._

The furious woman stopped mid-lecture and both turned to look at the figure at the grand staircase.

"That's enough," said his father quietly. "I'll take care of this." He stared at the child, who gulped. "Dobby!"

With a _crack!_, a house-elf appeared. It started groveling at the human's feet, squeaking "What can Dobby do for Master Malfoy?"

"Clean up the dining room." Lucius looked at the mess beyond the threshold with distaste; cutlery was strewn all over the place, as were shards of crystal and porcelain. There were juice stains on the Savonnerie carpets, and cake was smeared all over the antique furniture. Shaking his head, the man hit the elf with his walking stick before motioning for his son to follow.

Once they reache the study, he sighed and sank onto the chair behind his desk.

Draco suddenly broke the silence. "I didn't mean to do it, Father. Really, I didn't! _They're_ the ones who've started it —" He broke off as the adult held up a hand.

"There's no excuse to act in such an outrageous manner, Draco— and in front of our guests, too…Remember, you are a _Malfoy_. As such, you have to be on your best behaviour at all times; appearances are everything. This means being polite to everyone, as to earn their respect, and amicable, as to earn their trust." A pause. "Whether that person is someone like Vincent Crabbe or Blaise Zabini. They all have their uses, and could become powerful allies: Crabbe for his loyalty and strength, Zabini for his cunning and connections which stemmed from his family's neutrality. Any questions?"

The boy, who had been frowning (a gesture which had been mistaken for confusion), shook his head. Although he was feeling quite the contrary, he didn't want to risk talking back at his father. Lucius was wearing one of his no-nonsense faces.

"Very well. Don't do that again… And you may leave now."

Draco shuffled out of the room and down the stairs, sulking. Father hadn't even let him defend himself! He knew that the chaos he'd caused was wrong, of course, but he couldn't have helped it! They were practically _asking_ for it! Pansy had been clinging onto his arm, which had grossed her out (girls had cooties). Zabini had been acting as if today was _his_ birthday instead, being the incredibly stuck-up prat he was. And Crabbe and Goyle had been no fun at all; the two of them had their eyes on the gateau _the entire time_.

He passed by the dining room, then backtracked. Dobby was scurrying around, restoring the broken dishes and clearing off the table. He looked around him furtively to make sure that his parents weren't nearby…

Well, Father _had_ said to be well-mannered to everyone. While he suspected that this excluded the house-elves, he didn't dwell on such a thought. It was good practice, if nothing else; after all, he had to start _somewhere_, right? Taking a deep breath, he crossed the threshold.

"Dobby…?"

* * *


	2. Chapter 1

**I've decided to change the title of this fic, since "Draco's Tale_"_ isn't exactly original.**

**So, from now on this fic shall be called "Tell Me Who You Are", which came from the French proverb '_dis-moi qui tu hantes, je te dirai qui tu es'_ (which literally meant 'tell me whom you spent time with and I will tell you who you are'; it's more fitting, no?)**

* * *

Chapter 1

Draco paced around his room, restless. Where was Mother? When was she coming? Didn't she promise to take him to Diagon Alley?

He looked out of the window, biting his lip. He wanted to go and find her himself, but it won't do (he was a _Malfoy_!). He was about to reach for a book to pass the time with when he heard a _crack!_

"Hello, Gully. What is it?"

The house-elf bowed and gave him an odd look — then again, so had Trixy and Lissy and all the others. None of them were good conversationalists, what with their insistence of being beneath him and that they shouldn't be treated that cordially. Dobby had been the exception, as well as his first friend and and the only elf to address him by his given name… "Master Malfoy wants to see you in his study, Young Master."

"Alright then…Thank-you, Gully; you may leave now." The creature left with another bow and a _crack!_

He strolled out of the room, across two painting-filled corridors (the people in them were all napping), up to the door of Father's study. Slowly opening the door, he peered inside; it was empty. Sighing, he entered the room, sat down on the chair in front of the desk, and tried to count up to one billion in his head.

When he had gotten to thirty-six, Father strolled in and sat down so that they were facing each other.

"Your Mother won't be going on this outing with you, Draco; she had received an invitation to afternoon tea at the Greengrass Estate. I'll be accompanying you instead."

The eleven-year-old nodded.

"Now, I have a few things to discuss with you before we leave. This will be the first time you set foot out of the Manor grounds, and as such you may find it difficult to reorient yourself.

"You are a Malfoy — and my heir, no less. Hence you will find your every move heavily scrutinised and judged. Carry yourself with dignity, and bring honour to our family and lineage.

"You may find yourself scorned and being talked about behind your back by certain people: adults and children, Pure-bloods and mud— I mean Muggle-borns, half-bloods and blood-traitors like the _Weasleys_." This last word was spat out, as if it were something horrid.

"Do not worry yourself about those people, for they are not worthy of your concern; as a Malfoy, you are above all of them, you are their betters…Have you heard of the Dark Lord? The Death Eaters? Harry Potter?"

The boy frowned and wondered at the sudden subject change. He nodded, remembering his past conversations with Dobby; the elf was the only one who talked to him about the above three things, though he had seemed unwilling and rather nervous…

"I see. Listen closely, Draco: I am going to tell you what really happened.

"The Dark Lord was an individual who was powerful in terms of magic and intelligence. He was someone who felt obligated to bring change to the Wizarding world. He toiled strongly for the sake of our heritage and traditions, for the Pureblood lines to wield the power they deserved and the remnants of the populace — non-Purebloods and people who sympathised with — to be stopped from taking over our society. The Death Eaters were His most loyal followers, people who dedicated their entire lives to fight for such a worthy cause. They would've succeeded were it not for one Harry Potter, who had caused his downfall…most likely with help from that meddlesome coot, Dumbledore." A pause. "I had fought for those very principles, myself."

The boy looked incredulous.

"It's true — though you must never tell anyone outside our family about what I've just told you. Everyone believes that Death Eaters should be sent to Azkaban; they've been fed terrible lies by Dumbledore and the Ministry, which is made up of a congregate of useless persons. Is that clear? Very well; you can leave now. Wait for me downstairs, by the front door."

* * *


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The child stood still, staring at his surroundings with wide eyes and an open mouth — though he immediately schooled his expressions accordingly after his father gave him a warning look. Since he had his Potions equipment already (Severus Snape, the Potions Master at Hogwarts, was his Godfather; as such, he had been tutored in said subject by the very best), Lucius decided that he'll get the books and the telescope himself.

And so it was by himself that Draco entered Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. He was very relieved as to get indoors, as people seemed to be talking and staring at him wherever he went. They'd _tried_ to pretend that they hadn't been doing so, but he could tell anyways.

Since the downfall of You-Know-Who all those years ago, it took ages for his family to get back in society's good graces — though many were still suspicious of Father's 'innocence'. By default, of _course_ he would be viewed under the same light as his father…for better or for worse.

"Hello, dear." A rather short, friendly-looking woman interrupted his quiet musings. "Are you here for your Hogwarts school robes?" He nodded, supposing that this person was Madam Malkin herself. "Now, come along with one of my assistants — Ingrid!"

A brunette girl stepped forward and led him to a footstool, onto which he was told to stand. He put on the black robe he was given and waited silently as she started to measure and adjust its length. He was beginning to resign himself to boredom when he heard Madam Malkin say "Just stand on this stool, dear."

He hadn't noticed the creaking noise of the shop's door being opented. He turned around slightly and caught sight of another child, one that appeared to be youger than him, with messy black hair and startling green eyes. "Hullo," he said. "Hogwarts too?"

"Yes."

"My father's next door buying my we're going to get a wand for me." He paused for a moment, wondering what to say. "Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No." The boy looked nervous. Draco looked first at the other child's clothes (worn-out, obviously second-hand, way too large), then at the ones he was wearing (velvet, tastefully embroidered around the sleeves and collar, just the right size). He seemed like someone Father would've scorned and deemed 'way beneath us Malfoys' — but then again, most people fell under that category.

He recalled a past conversation with his best friend. Dobby had insisted, in that rather squeaky voice of his, that blood purity was not important — look at Harry Potter, for example. Despite being of 'dubious origins' (his mother was muggle-born), he had managed to defeat the…Dark Lord. The house-elf spoke of Potter as if he were a god-send (which, if one conforms with popular opinion, he was).

While Draco didn't feel inclined to worship Potter for what appeared to be a mere fluke, he wasn't about to do the same for You-Know-Who, either. Hating someone because of the circumstances they happened to be born into seemed unreasonable, and he wondered what might've happened to him had he been born a Squib. He had to supress a shudder at that; Father hated non-magical people — and muggleborns ('Mudbloods', he'd often called them) — especially. Shaking his head slightly, he looked at the other first-year again.

The boy looked rather unsure of himself — perhaps he hadn't heard much about Hogwarts? Draco decided to edit out, as much as possible, the nuances Father was fond of incorporating into the explanation he was going to give; he didn't want this person to talk behind his back as well, like all those annoying people outside. Besides, this was the first person (who was about the same age as him) he had met outside the Manor; he'd rather not make an enemy out of the brunet.

"There's four Houses at Hogwarts: Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. You get sorted into one of them, though that depends on your personality. Gryffindors are bold and brave, Ravenclaws are smart and studious, Slytherins are ambitious and clever, and Hufflepuffs are hardworking and more down-to-earth…Well, that's what I've heard."

"Oh."

He looked thoughtful. "I suppose I'll be in Slytherin — all or our family have been — but Ravenclaw would be nice, too…" He trailed off, looking into the distance. He caught sight of a large man, who was holding two ice-creams, standing at the front window. "I say, look at that man!" That person was _huge!_

"That's Hagrid," said the boy with a smile. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh. I've heard of him…He's the gamekeeper, right?"

"Yeah."

"Is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead."

"Oh, sorry." Draco chewed at his lip, trying to think of what to say and failing.

Then there was nothing but an uneasy silence, which went on for quite a while until Ingrid said that she was done. He gave his thanks, then paid her with the coins Father had given him.

He turned to the boy. "Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose." He gave a half-wave before leaving with the package of clothes tucked under one arm.

He met Father on his way to Flourish and Blotts. The package was handed over, shrunk, then tucked into a pocket. After that, he followed the man to Ollivanders.

His father walked in beside him, sniffing dismissively at the broken-down state of the shop.

"Good afternoon." Ollivander was an elderly man with uncannily gleaming eyes that rarely blinked. "Hello, Lucius Malfoy…Ten inches, Elm, and dragon heartstring, correct?"

Lucius gave a stiff nod.

"Well, now — Please hold out your wand arm, Mister Malfoy." This was directed at Draco, who held out his right arm. He was measured from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and around his head (the last part had seemed unnecessary, though). Then Ollivander walked behind the counter and scampered about, picking various boxes off the shelves. He handed a wand to the boy. "Chestnut and dragon heartstring. Seven and a half inches. Rather flexible. Go on."

He took the piece of wood and looked at it before waving it once, twice thrice... Nothing happened. The man took it back, then handed him another. "Mahogany and phoenix feather. Twelve inches. Pliant."

He waved it around for a bit before the stick was snatched back. Ollivander looked through the small pile of boxes on the counter before grabbing one. "Hawthorn and unicorn hair. Ten inches. Reasonably Springy."

The second Draco touched the wand, he realised that it was the right one by the way it fitted comfortably in his hand. He waved it about, looking triumphant as blue and silver sparks burst out from the tip. Ollivander nodded, looking pleased. Father paid him seven Galleons and walked out of the shop, followed behind by Draco.

A moment after the two of them left Ollivanders, a tall man sauntered up to them.

"Lucius! I was looking for you; you're needed at the Ministry. Oh, is this young Draco?" Beady brown eyes peered down at the boy.

"Yes, he is. Draco, this is Javiero Delgado. He's a member of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"Hello, sir."

Delgado grinned at the child before saying something, in a low voice, to the other grown-up.

"Ah, I see." Lucius looked at his son. "Draco, I have to leave for the Ministry. Please stay here, in Diagon Alley; I'll come back later, at around five, to pick you up." He put a small bag of coins into said person's hands, then bent down and murmured: "We'll meet at Florean Fortescue's. We'll get you an owl later." The two adults left.

Draco stared at the two figures until they were out far away from him. Then he pulled up the hood of his cloak and turned away.

* * *

**Some of the sentences (or phrases) were copied, word for word, straight out of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_; they were from page 60...and there were a couple from page 64. Oh, and the bit about Draco's wand was from somewhere in _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_, I think.**


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Draco roamed the street, looking at various stalls whilst ignoring the low and disapproving voices (and the occasional glares) that dogged his every step. He bought a pack of Candied Dahlias, a treat with different sweet flavours on each petal. After that, he bought a satchel that was spelled to be bottomless _and_ able to be folded multiple times (items would be shrunk as soon as they were placed inside it); he could hide it in a pocket if need be.

He saw the boy, whom he had met earlier on at Madam Malkin's, enter Eeylops Owl Emporium. He realised that he had forgot to ask for a name, but decided not to; the sheer size of Hagrid-the-gamekeeper intimidated him rather. Instead, he went into Magical Menagerie.

The shop was filled with cages of different creatures. There were Masi-Mosi, cats who appeared had nine lives, each of which were represented as dark markings on its fur. (He wanted one of those, partly because cats were his favourite animals, but they were nine times the cost of an ordinary feline; besides, he knew that Father wouldn't have approved of them.) He had read about them in _Bernard Sanderson's Big Book of Magical Creatures_.

Then he saw Puffskeins, firecrabs and kneazles. You know, the usual hodgepodge of magical creatures. He also got to chat with parrots (imported from Paraguay) who were very witty and enjoyed showing off what they called their 'linguistic prowess'. When he had finally had enough of the fug in the building, he left.

Since this was his first foray outside the Manor gates, he decided that he ought to venture into the Muggle world. He wanted to see those people whom Father had scorned, and try to find out why they were so heavily disapproved of. As discreetly as possible, he set off for Gringotts.

The inside of the bank was a gigantic hall of carved stonefilled with a myriad of goblins. For a while, he simply stared at the said creatures, along with the coins and precious stones they were examining. Taking a deep breath, he headed to the counter.

"Hello," he said to a goblin. "I'd like to exchange Wizarding coins into Muggle currency."

It looked at him curiously, then cleared its throat. "How much, sir?" It paused, then added, "There are ten different coins: one penny, twopence, fivepence, tenpence, twentypence, fiftypence, one pound, two pound, and five pound. One pound is worth one hundred pence — do you have the money, sir?"

He dug around in the bag, then took out twenty Galleons. He handed them over.

The goblin looked at them carefully to ensure that they were not counterfeit. "This is the equivalent of one hundred pounds. How much of each coin do you want, sir?"

He thought about it for a while. "1 penny, 2 twopence, 1 fivepence, 1 tenpence, 1 twentypence, and 1 fiftypence coins — Please." He added.

The goblin placed the exact amount of coins on the counter. Draco gathered them with both hands and placed them in the satchel he had purchased earlier. He thanked the creature and left.

He entered the Leaky Cauldron after passing through some wall (though he had to ask a diminutive, grey-haired woman) by tapping on three particular bricks with his wand. The hustle and bustle of the bar halted as soon as he set foot in the pub; people stared at him (the hood had fallen off while he was walking) until he left.

_Wicked! _There were Muggles walking down the street, Muggles sitting in horse-less carriage-like machines that moved on their own, Muggles talking with some weird mechanism that they held to their ears…

He walked down the street, stopping at a shop that had some kind of box-shaped machines on display. He gazed into the window, looking at the ever-changing image on them; it was like Wizarding photographs, though these included sound and never looked the same twice.

On the surface of the machine, he saw a bunch of small stuffed bunnies with some cylindrical thing tied to their backs beating on the drums they were carrying. Most of them started to become lethargic, except the one in the middle. A man's voice said, "Energizer — it keeps going and going and going."

Then he saw children who were drooping as they walked on the pavement, saying things like "I can't stand summer; it's way too hot…" and "Where's the ice-cream truck?" The group stopped at a store called Baskin-Robbins. They ran inside, yelling "_Ice-cream!_" There was a picture that showed numerous tubs of varying black and grey which were what was assumed to be said dessert. A man's voice said, "Baskin-Robbins: thirty-one flavours of ice-cream, and more!"

"Hello there!" A black-haired girl was standing beside him, wearing clothes he had never seen before. "What odd clothes you have there! Are you in drama class?" He nodded slowly, wondering what this 'drama' was. "I'm Elliana Soares. And you're…?"

"My name's Draco."

"Draco? What an interesting name…it means 'dragon' in Latin, right?" He nodded again. "Where are your parents? How come you're by yourself?"

He gave her a small smile, quickly coming up with a story. "Mother's at a restaurant. She let me walk around for a bit because it was getting boring in there; she's having tea with a friend." _She seemed nice enough…_ He pointed at the things on the other side of the window. "What are those?"

"Oh, that's a telly. It's short for 'television'… You've never seen one of those before?" He shook his head. "Hmm... Are you from the countryside, then? My cousin lives on a farm, and he hasn't seen a telly either." He decided that it'd be easier to go along with her, nodding. She clapped her hands together, twice. "That reminds me of _The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse_! Have you heard of that fable?" He shook his head again.

She checked her watch. "Listen— I've got to go soon. Why don't I walk you to Foyles (it's a bookshop) before I catch the lorry? It's just nearby, so you wouldn't have to walk far." He acquiesced, wondering why she had to catch something that sounded suspiciously like the name of a house-elf. Weren't they already tame?

And so they walked along, chatting on and off until they reached a large bookstore. There, Elliana waved good-bye and hurriedly left, calling out "I'll see you around, then!"

After an hour or so of wandering around the store, looking at various books and selecting the ones he'd taken a fancy to, he realised that he should start heading back to Diagon alley; the clock hanging on a wall said that it was four-thirty. Feeling quite regretful, he made for the counter. A wizened old man put his purchases into a brown bag and took his coins; he had spent less than fifty pounds in total. Thanking the person, he placed the bag in his satchel and left, rushing all the way to the Leaky Cauldron.

Once there, he hid the folded satchel in a pocket inside his robes (the contents inside were already conveniently shrunk). He ignored the multitude of unblinking eyes that focused on him as he headed for the wall. Making the entrance appear again, he crossed through it before heading for Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.

He ordered a Chocolate chip ice cream cone, then settled down on a chair to wait. Father arrived by the time he finished the cone, striding towards him and ignoring everyone else on his way as usual. "How was your afternoon, Draco?"

"It was alright, I suppose."

A nod. "Let's go to the Owl Emporium, now; you'll need an owl to send your letters with."

The Emporium was filled with the soft sound of feathers, and every inch of the interior was covered in shadows and peppered with flickering orb of various colours. He flitted from cage to cage until he saw an owl that he liked.

It was Great Horned Owl, a female one, which looked right back at him with yellow eyes and and somehow stern expression (he found the look to be quite funny). It hooted, or rather '_ho-ho-hoo hoo hoo_'-ed, at him.

"What are you going to call it?" asked Lucius as they left the shop.

Draco entered an impromptu staring contest with the bird…which he won. He hid a smile. "Its name is Soraya."

* * *

**The bits about British currency have been taken off Wikipedia (so I'm unsure as to whether they were accurate). Oh, I got the hooting sound of the Great Horned Owl from there, too.**

**"Energizer — it keeps going and going and going." I'm not sure if this catchphrase was used during 1992, but since this is just a _fanfic_...**

**The ad about Baskin-Robbins is made-up, by the way.**

**_Bernard Sanderson's Big Book of Magical Creatures_ from ****Bernard Heuvelmans (zoologist & founder [of sorts] of Cryptozoology) & ****Ivan T. Sanderson(creator of the term 'Cryptozoology' [according to Heuvelmans]) ****'Cryptozoology' searches for animals whose existence lacks empirical support but which appear in myths, legends, or undocumented sightings (for example Bigfoot and el Chupacabra) and living examples of animals thought to be extinct (e.g. dinosaurs).**

**Soraya: (Persian) rich, princess**


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Narcissa Malfoy was clinging to her son as if her life depended on it — a gesture which, the boy realised with an involuntary shiver, reminded him overwhelmingly of the dratted Pansy Parkinson.

"Draco!" she cried. "You simply _must_ right home to me, at least once a month and as often as possible! Remember to get enough sleep, to eat enough, to—" A slight cough managed to stop her from making too much of a scene.

"Draco. Remember to study hard, and to make your House and our family proud. Like your Mother said, remember to write home to us." He nodded at some figures that were headed towards them. "Your friends are here, I see." _Friends? _"We'll see you at Christmas-time, then." The two adults Disapparated, Lucius looking resigned and Narcissa sobbing heavily onto his shoulder, with twin _CRACK!_s.

"Drakey!" The dreaded female whom had been mentioned, briefly, earlier on ran up to him; his arm was seized in a vice-like grip. "Come and sit with us! Theodore Nott saved us a compartment." Without further ado, she started dragging him towards the train. Goyle took hold of his trolley, walking alongside the two.

"Malfoy. Good to see you." Zabini nodded at him politely, though the tone in his voice suggested otherwise. Evidently he remembered what had happened the last time they'd met; Draco had received a long lecture from Father, which ended with him being sent to his room without dinner or dessert (though Dobby, being the good friend he was, managed to sneak him ample food).

He finally succeeded in tearing himself out of Pansy's hold. "Don't call me 'Drakey', Pansy — and stop grabbing at my arm like that." He rubbed at the limb, which was sore. "And no, thank you. I'd like to keep to myself."

"Oh, really? Think you're too good for the likes of us?" Zabini had an ugly look on his face.

"Of _course_ not!" shrilled Pansy. "He just…keeps to himself."

"Theo's like that, too, but he turned out alright." Zabini sighed, looking falsely reluctant. "Well, then…We'll see you around. Oh, and you'd better look out for yourself." He lowered his voice. "Mudbloods, blood-traitors, and Weasleys galore aboard the Hogwarts Express — Not to mention the _Boy-Who-bloody-Lived_."

"What, really?"

He let out a nasty laugh. "That's right. Too bad he's already corrupted by a Weasley, though." He gave a lazy wave. "Well, we'd better get going; the train's going to leave soon."

* * *

As he went from compartment to compartment, he started regretting his refusing Pansy and the others outright; every one of them he'd seen so far were full. When he was nearly at the end of the train, he found one that was relatively empty; he could see two blurred figures through the window. "May I sit here?" he asked, opening the door.

"No." said one of them bluntly. He raised an eyebrow at the person, then turned to the one sitting across from him—

"Oh, it's you again." It was the boy from Madame Malkin's. "I'm Draco Malfoy."

The first person gave a slight cough, as though trying to hide a snicker. He stared at the prat again and decided that it was another Weasley from its red hair, freckles, and second-hand robes. Here was yet another person on Father's blacklist, but for an actually valid (well, _partly _so) reason: Arthur Weasley had led the Aurors on raids of all the residences of suspected Death Eaters. Draco had been too young to remember, then; all he knew was that Father deemed the Weasleys to be beneath him and fair game for scorn. By the way things are going, this person obviously thought that he was yet another Death Eater-to-be. Mentally rolling his eyes, he turned back to the other boy. "And you are…?"

"His name's Harry Potter, and he doesn't want you here, either."

_Harry Potter, him? _What would the 'Saviour of the Wizarding World' be doing in such plain and clearly second-handed clothing? He looked nothing like the protagonist ipf the tale Dobby was fond of recounting.

The one who was supposedly Potter looked mystified. "What are you talking about, Ron? Why wouldn't I want him to be here?"

The redhead hissed, "He's a Malfoy!"

"So?"

Draco scowled. "Look here, stop talking to me as if I'm not here!"

"What's going on?" asked a sharp voice. A bushy-haired girl who looked about their age walked up to them.

"Malfoy here was just about to leave, _weren't you?_" The last two words had been directed at the towhead.

He bit his lip, then looked upwards. "I can see when I'm not wanted," he told the ceiling. "I'll be off, then. Good-day, Weasley. Potter. Miss…?"

"Hermione Granger. Why don't you come with me? My compartment's just close by, and there's plenty of space." He gave his thanks, agreeing to the offer. As he walked away, he heard the so-called Potter apologising to him awkwardly. Feeling slightly mollified, he nodded at the boy and left just as Weasley started to explain Why Malfoy Is Bad News.

"I think that we'll be there soon." said Granger as they sat down in their seats.

He nodded, taking out _The Horse and His Boy_. He had enjoyed the previous two books as well (he had bought all seven books this C. S. Lewis had written, in fact).

The girl read the title on the cover. "I've read that, too. Have you read the entire series, yet?" He shook his head.

There was a long pause before Granger asked, "What happened back there?"

Sullenly, he shrugged. "I'm sure that you'll find out soon enough." _And then she'd be converted by those whispers, too…_ He stared out of the window.

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately." announced a loud voice.

Granger jumped up and started pacing back and forth. "This is it," she muttered. "I'm a witch. I can use magic. I'm going to Hogwarts—" she broke off with a frustrated sigh, turning around to face him. "Do you know what's going to happen to us once we arrive?" She grimaced; the words she had just uttered sounded dreadfully ominous.

He shook his head; there's no need for her to start stressing about the Sorting — she was nervous enough. "I'm sure that they'll tell us later."

The minute he stepped off the train, he heard Hagrid's booming voice. "Any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

He and everyone else followed the man down a gravely walkway. All trudged in silence until Hagrid said, "Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec. Jus' round this bend here."

Sure enough, they caught sight of a large lake. On the other side of it, seated above a lofty mountain, was Hogwarts. Its many windows shone like tiny beacons of light in the shadowy darkness.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore.Pansy took hold of him once more and pulled him over to a boat that held Zabini and Nott. The former sneered at him; the latter looked as though he couldn't care less. He watched as Granger and another boy went into the same boat as Potter and Weasley.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself, "Right then — FORWARD!"

All the boats started to move, noiselessly, on their own. Around him, Draco saw everyone else (Zabini and Co. included) looking up at the castle with awe and anticipation.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached a cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy which hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground parlour, where they clambered out on to rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is your toad?" said Hagrid. The other boy in Granger and Co.'s boat shouted "Trevor!" and accepted the creature. "A Hufflepuff, that one." Pansy whispered to Draco, who tried to wrestle his arm away and failed. They climbed up a smooth slope of rock, eventually reaching a large field of grass. They made their way up a series of stone steps to stand in front of a large, wooden door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got your toad?"

_Knock-knock-knock._

* * *

**Some of the sentences (or phrases) were copied, word for word, straight out of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_; they were from page 83...and there were a couple from page 84.**


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face. He guessed that she was the Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall. Father had briefly mentioned her when he talked about Hogwarts.

They walked through the door, down the hall, and into a small empty chamber. McGonagall, for that's whom she actually was, gave a speech that welcomed them and mentioned the four Houses; it was quite formal, and made quite a few people nervous.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can. I will return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly."

Everyone waited in silence…except for Granger; the girl was listing every single spell she'd read about, wondering which one she'd need. He hid a grin. She had made everyone even more worried.

The people around him (prospective Slytherins, all) twittered and snickered. "And _that_," muttered Pansy, "Is why we shouldn't let those sorts into our world. What noisy plebians they are…" He rolled his eyes and ignored the rest of her words.

All of a sudden, he heard the sound of people screaming. He started, then relaxed. It was merely some less than dozen ghosts.

One of them, a rather rotund and stunted ghost — the Fat Friar, Father'd once told him — noticed and adressed the first years. It smiled. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know." Some distance away, Draco saw Nott say something to Zabini; the latter ended up struggling to keep from bursting into laughter.

"Move along now," said a sharp voice, "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." It was the Deputy Headmistress.

"Now, form a line,"she told them, "and follow me." Leaving the chamber, they backtracked until they reached a pair of double doors that they'd passed earlier andinto the Great Hall.

He peered down the length of the hall, where the staff sat. He looked at his godfather, who was sitting beside a nervous-looking man with a turban. Severus nodded back at him.

They followed McGonagall up to the staff table, and came to a halt in the line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. They were surrounded on both sides. Draco looked beside him; some brown-haired boy to his left had slightly trembling hands, while Pansy stood still to his right. Her grip on his arm had left moments earlier.

In front of the first years, the Professor puta four-legged stool on the floor. She placed the Sorting Hat on top of it. The Hat opened its mouth and started to sing.

As the song neared its end, everyone started to clap. After bowing to all four House tables, it stopped moving.

McGonagall approached, a lengthy parchment scroll in hand."When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted."

Crabbe and and Goyle managed to get into Slytherin. Granger was made a Gryffindor…

"Malfoy, Draco!"

"I'll see you at the Slytherin table." Pansy whispered to him.

He walked up to the stool and, taking the hat, placed it on his head. He sat down.

"_A Malfoy, hmm?"_ said the hat in his mind. _"I suppose you'll be in Slytherin as well— hold on, what's this?"_ A thoughtful pause. _"No, it won't do…you're not one to give your all to accomplish something, are you? Very knowledgeable, I see. Rather determined, as well. And quite honourable, too. Now, __where should I put you?__"_

"_Just put me in Slytherin,"_ he told it mentally. _"That's where everyone in my family went."_

"_Oh, no, I can't do that. While it's true that you have certain Slytherin qualities, you wouldn't belong in that House at all."_

"_Ravenclaw, then."_

"_Perhaps, but you seem more like a Gryffindor to me."_

His eyes widened._"A WHAT?! I can't go there — what would Father say?"_

"_Don't worry about it. I remember this boy who had the same background as you; he managed just fine…"_ It trailed off, pausing. _"Er, nevermind. Moving on —_ GRYFFINDOR!"

Those bloody whispers followed him all the way to his new House table. People stared at him, and some even went as far as to edge away from where he sat. Or relocate themselves to chairs a good distance away from him.

He ignored everything around him, choosing to count up to one thousand in his head. It took until _deux cent soixante-dix-neuf _for the rest of the Sorting to be over with. Soon, he found himself thinking of Professor Dumbledore as somewhat silly; who in their right mind would shout out 'blubber' and 'tweak' to a hall full of people? No wonder some people, his Father included, didn't take the Headmaster seriously.

Rolling his eyes, he started putting putting food onto his plate. He smiled inwardly and silently thanked the house-elves. Then he thought of Dobby, and snorted. The elf would've started blubbering and showering him with praise whenever he thanked it.

The good cheer he was feeling ended abruptly as he looked around him. The talking-behind-his-back had been replaced by the sight of people digging into their food as if they hadn't eaten for days. Father had often said that Gryffindors were uncouth brutes; his only son being sorted into said House was too _unthinkable_ a concept.

The boy started to eat chips, then chicken wings. After that, he slowly ate peas and carrots with a sipped at the pumpkin juice in his goblet. When he was done, he stared at the empty plate and wished that he had brought a book with him.

Whispers notwithstanding, the Hall was still bursting with noises of people eating and talking to one another. It was a sharp contrast to the solemn silence which reigned supreme over Malfoy Manor. He didn't mind, though. To him, the hubub sounded far more comfortable than silence itself. Besides, the hushed voices had all but dispersed.

Finally the food disappeared, to be replaced by dessert. He filled his plate with a slice of apple pie, a chocolate éclair, and some strawberries. He chewed at the food for as long as he could; it was something to pass the time with.

Eventually the desserts vanished as well. Dumbledore got up, and every single conversation in the hall stopped. He gave some warnings to the students (e.g. don't wander into the Forbidden Forest or the third floor corridor on the right hand side) and mentioned the Quidditch trials. Then he got everyone to sing the school song (which had silly, nonsensical lyrics), said a few words about how wonderful music was, and dismissed the students.

Draco stood up and followed the other first years to a Prefect, who introduced himself as Percy Weasley. Their group walked through the myriad of still chatting students, out of the Hall, then up a flight of stairs. They traveled down a series of corridors, through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries, then up even more staircases before they came to a sudden walked all the way to the end of the corridor, where a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress was hung.

"Password?" she said.

"Caput Draconis," said Pecy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. Some whispered and pointed to Draco as they walked through it to the cozy room full of squashy armchairs on the other side; said towhead gave a silent sigh. The boys left the girls and walked through a door, up a spiral staircase, then into their domitory. There were six beds, allfour-posters, hung with deep-red velvet curtains.

"Waidaminit," mumbled Weasley, who was slumped on the headboard. "Wha's Malfoy doin'ere? He shoobe in Slytherin." The others ignored him, opting to change as to go to sleep as soon as possible.

"Can't we talk about this tomorrow, Ron?" Potter yawned.

"Fine." An index finger was pointed at the general direction in which Draco stood. "You're offa hook. For now."

The only Malfoy to ever set foot in Gryffindor rolled his eyes, closing his curtains and falling asleep promptly.

* * *

**So, any thoughts?**

**_deux cent soixante-dix-neuf_: two hundred and sixty-nine (it's in French)**

**Some of the sentences (or phrases) were copied, word for word, straight out of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_; they were from page 85-87, 89-90, and 94-98.**


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

He was the second person in all of Hogwarts to be talked about the most, the first being Harry Potter. He didn't envy Potter, though; it wasn't as if every single inhabitant of the school knew who Draco Malfoy was (some of them were muggleborn), or cared.

Then again, being Sorted into Gryffindor wasn't doing _his _already almost non-existent reputation any good — quite the contrary, actually. More than once, Weasley started ranting on and on about how he didn't belong there at all and that he was a snake through and through…until someone got tired of the noise and told the redhead to keep it down, or if Potter managed to calm him. As if he _needed_ to be reminded of where he stood!

At breakfast, Mother's tawny owl Astrid brought him an envelope. The seal was a picture of a violet. Inside was a picture of a white and pink bouquet.

"Hello, what's this?" asked Granger as she sat down beside him; she was the only one bold enough to do so, however. Wordlessly, he showed her the picture. "Ooh, what a nice picture!"

She obviously couldn't decode the message, which was in _Hanakotoba_ — the Japanese language of flowers. Mother loved flowers and painting, and had given him a book on the subject for his tenth birthday. Since then, they had used their knowledge on said subject to pass each other messages they didn't want Father to figure out. Besides, the flowers graced the interior of the Manor with a friendly atmosphere.

_"I must admit I feel let down that you've been sorted into Gryffindor, but I'm sure you'll turn out alright. Don't worry — I'm still here for you. Please write back as soon as possible._

_Awaiting your reply, __Mother"_

He sighed as the girl next to Granger pulled on her sleeve and drew her into a conversation. Why did the Hat say that he wasn't suited for Slytherin, again? It mentioned something about him not being ruthless enough. Was it _that_ important, though? He couldn't imagine himself, say, cheating for the sake of getting top marks.

Frowning, he played at his food with a fork. Word must've reached his parents, most likely from one of the new Slytherins, about his supposed betrayal of Malfoy customs. He glanced at the table on the other end of the Hall; Zabini was in his element, acting as if he had the right to order his peers around. Pansy was split between chatting to the girls sitting around her and sending him looks of hurt and longing. He suppressed a shudder and rolled his eyes, looking at his schedule and resolving to write to Mother and Father before the end of the week.

The classes themselves were alright, though the professors also looked as though they were trying to figure him out…especially his new Head of House and godfather.

On Wednesdays at midnight, they went all the way up the Astronomy Tower. At the top of the building, Professor Sinistra taught them all about stars and planets. He rather enjoyed those classes, as he knew most of the names and the storied behind them from _The Giant Encyclopedia of Stars and the Origins of Their Names_his tutor Mr. Petrucci had bought for him about two years ago.

For Herbology, they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle. Professor Sprout, the Head of Hufflepuff House, was a kindly woman with loads of patience. She taught them all about magical plants, fungi, and their uses thereof.

Almost everyone fell asleep in History of Magic. Professor Binns, who was actually a ghost, made the classes boring and talked in a monotonous and soporific voice. The only person who paid attention was Granger, who really should have been put into Ravenclaw. Her eagerness in class and willingness to show off her knowledge were rapidly turning her into a pariah. Draco himself only managed to stay awake and attentive by making doodles (which _mostly_ pertained to the subject at hand) on the side of his parchment. Hence his notes were filled with drawings of goblins like Uric the Oddball, since the goblin wars were Binns's favourite topic.

Professor Flitwick was a man so small that he had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. He talked in a rather squeaky voice, which reminded Draco of very much of Dobby, which in turn reminded him of home and dragged down his spirits once again.

The Head of Gryffindor House, Professor McGonagall, was one of those grown-ups with a no-nonsensical attitude towards teaching. She lost no time in telling them how to conduct themselves, to behave or else brave drastic consequences, etc. She demonstrated how serious Transfiguration was by turning her desk into a pig and back. Then she had them take a whole bunch of notes before giving them matches to turn into needles. Once again, Granger succeeded in the endeavour and won Gryffindor ten points. Draco was close behind; he'd gotten acknowledged for at least changing his match from wood to some kind of metal, and for making it somewhat pointy. Everyone else were struggling.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was a subject of which Father was very much skeptical and disapproving. Many a times the man had declared,"Wait until you get your wand and go to school, Draco — then I'll teach you things that are _actually_important. The Dark Arts are far more superior than this measly course!" The teacher turned out to be Professor Quirrell, the man with the turban. His constant stammering quickly made the boy lose interest in the class, not to mention the fact that he sometimes caught Quirrell shooting calculating looks at him. It was annoying as hell.

The timetable told him that they had Potions class with the Slytherins, and it was with greater dread and trepidation than his housemates (Severus was both Head of Slytherin House and Potions Master) that Draco walked down to the dungeons for his first lesson. Pansy was about to come over and pull him to a seat beside her, but was pulled back by Zabini.

The Potions Master seemed to have developed instant dislike for Potter from the start. After giving the introductory speech, he started firing questions at the boy.

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" After getting not one answer (unless bewildered looks counted), he sneered.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a beozar?" Again, nothing.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" The said Gryffindor glared back.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Granger, who was restless with impatience, went from raising her hand to stretching it to standing up. She was ignored and spurned.

After shooting even more malevolent looks at Potter, Severus turned in his direction. "Mister Malfoy, do you know the answers to the questions I've asked?"

Draco chewed at his lip and looked around. Everyone stared back at him, waiting. He scowled, and shot an apologetic look at Granger (who looked disappointed, but shrugged).

"Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A beozar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite."

"Well?" barked the Professor. "Why aren't you all copying that down?" There was a lot of shuffling noises as students took out their parchment and quills.

"Aren't you going to give us points, Professor?" Potter called out, frowning. "He'd answered all your questions correctly."

"A point from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter."

Severus paired them up into groups for making a boil-curing potion; he found fault in everyone…except for Draco. Granger, who was working with him, looked on jealously as the man gave a slight nod and quietly praised how the way he had stewed his horned slugs was perfect.

Suddenly the classroom was covered in an unnaturally green mist of smoke. A deafening hiss rang in the air. Longbottom, who turned out to be the boy with the toad, had melted his partner Finnigan's cauldron into a molten clump of metal; their potion had found its way onto the floor and was now eating away at the shoes of people close by. While everyone clambered onto their stools, Longbottom cried out as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs; hehad been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed.

"Idiot boy! I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" Waving his wand, Severus got rid of the spillage."Take him to the hospital wing." he spat at Finnigan. Then he took another point from Gryffindor since Potter, who was working close by, didn't stop the potions disaster from happening.

After class had ended, Draco was told to stay. Granger shot him a worried look as she left, as did Pansy (before Daphne Greengrass, one of her housemates, drew her attention away). Potter, scowling openly, shot the professor another glare before leaving.

"Draco," said Severus when everyone else had cleared out of the dungeon. "How are you?"

"Fine." The boy frowned. "You're not mad at me for the way the Sorting turned out, are you?"

"Well, it _was _unexpected…but no, I'm not. Besides, I know that you're better than all of Gryffindor combined." A deep breath. "Did you write to your parents write about the Sorting?"

He'd _ought_ to, but had been putting it off ever since he'd received the painting of flowers. "Mother's expecting a letter. Father didn't say anything."

"I see." The adult leaned forward in his seat slightly. "Can you tell me what the Sorting Hat had told you?" A pause. "Don't worry — This will be between the two of us."

"It said that I was knowledgeable, determined, honourable…and not capable of doing everything possible to get what I want, I think."

His godfather looked slightly reassured by his words. "Well, I suppose things will turn out alright."

He didn't feel feel that way, though. "That's what the Hat said." A sigh. "Have you heard from my parents?"

"No, not yet." A roll of the eyes. "Don't worry — Should the worst come to worst, remember that I'm on your side. Were anything to happen, you can come and live with me."

All this talk about possible worse-case scenarios was making the towhead nervous. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it," he said slowly.

A nod. "You can leave now. I'll either be in my office or in here, if you need someone to talk to."

"Er, I'll see you around, then." He made as if to leave, but stopped abruptly when the man called out his name.

"Fifteen points to…_Gryffindor_." Severus ground out, scowling. "This is a one time occurrence only, Draco. Don't tell anyone about what I've done, or there _will_ be consequences."

* * *

**List of flowers in Narcissa's picture and their meanings (taken from Wikipedia):**

**Azalea — Patient**

**White Camellia — Waiting**

**Carnation — Disappointed**

**White Chrysanthemum — Truth**

**Daisy — Faith**

**Pink Rose — Trust/Confidence**

**Violet - Honesty**

**Some of the sentences (or phrases) were copied, word for word, straight out of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_; they were from page 99, 102, and103.**


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Draco managed to get by in all of his classes — in fact, he was ranked close behind Granger. The girl rarely talked to him nowadays, though; the other Gryffindors must've told her about his family's shady background.

He'd wrote to Mother regualrly; while he'd heard no word from Father, she was rather anxious about him. Every letter of hers ended with messages such as 'remember to eat and sleep enough', 'please write me as soon as you can, I'd like to hear from you', et cetera.

And so it went… Before he knew it, flying lessons were starting soon. What's more, the Gryffindors were to attend them with the Slytherins.

Zabini was all talk, telling everyone around him about the many adventures he had on his broom and whinging about how first years should be allowed to play Quidditch.

Longbottom looked extremely nervous. Then again, he was gaining quite the reputation as an accident-magnet.

Granger read up on the subject of flying, and rattled off rules and regulations from a book called Quidditch through the Ages. Draco smiled at this; flying wasn't something you can excel at merely by reading about it — it was like playing a musical instrument. One must learn through hands-on experience.

"What's going on?" McGonagall asked sharply, and he looked in her direction. Potter and Weasley were standing up, facing a smirking Zabini and Co.

"Zabini's got my Remembrall, Professor."said Longbottom.

Making a face, Zabini threw a bright red sphere onto the tabletop. "Just looking," he said before strolling off,Crabbe and Goyle a few steps behind.

* * *

By the time the Gryffindors arrived at the spot where the flying lessons were to be held, the Slytherins were already waiting for them. The flying instructor was Madame Hooch, a stern and elderly woman. "Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come one, hurry up." Everyone did as she instructed, running towards the twenty broomsticks that rested neatly on the ground. "Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say 'Up!'"

Cries of "UP!"rang in the air. Draco's broom had immediately shot into his hand, as had a few others' like Potter, Weasley, and Zabini. Granger's somersaulted on the groound, while Longbottom's remained immobile. Hooch showed everyone how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end; a few of them had their grips corrected.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three — two —"

A moment before the whistle was blown, Longbottom kicked himself off the ground and flew straight up until he fell of the side of the broom and crashed earthwards. "Broken wrist," Madam Hooch muttered. "Come on, boy— it's all right, up you get."

She warned the students not to move — or else — and headed off to the hospital wing with Longbottom. As soon as the two left, Zabini started to laugh. "Did you see his face, the great lump?" His housemates snickered.

"Shut up, Zabini,"snapped Paravati Patil, a girl from Gryffindor.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy. "Never thought you'd like fat little cry babies, Paravati."

Zabini spotted and grabbed something off the ground: Longbottom's Remembrall. Potter told him to hand the sphere over, and was refused. The Slytherin spoke aloud about putting it somewhere difficult, like on a tree; this got the Gryffindor riled up. The two of them started an impromptu — and short-lived — flying match.

While many were watching the action taking place in the air (most of them Gryffindors), the Slytherins were casually chatting amongst themselves.

"He'll get expelled for sure," said Zabini as he landed back on the ground; Potter was trying to catch the Remembrall he had thrown.

Nott spoke up. "What do you think, Malfoy?" The Slytherins studied him with cool faces, while the Gryffindors were waiting for his move. "Yeah, what do you think?"

Drat. He couldn't agree with Nott, since that would mean betraying his own Housemates. But if he sided with the Gryffindors, one of the Slytherins was bound to write Father about his so-called treachery.

"I think," he said stiffly, "that you should lay off. If all of you are as superior as you claim to be, why'd you even bother with people like us? Aren't we supposed to be unworthy of your attention?" While unintentionally, his suggestion had nevertheless heated things up.

Zabini: "Don't tell us what to do, you Gryffindork!"

A Gryffindor: "What are you getting at, huh?"

A Slytherin, at about the same time: "How dare you talk back to us?"

Weasley: "Are you insulting us, Malfoy?"

Pansy: "Draco! Why did you say that?"

Weasley, again: "Are you saying that we're worthless?"

"I think he has a point." said Granger quietly. All noise stopped as she gestured at the Slytherins. "You people ought to stop harassing us— what have we done to you in the first place?"

"It's mostly the fact that people like youexist and that you're trespassing into our world…" drawled Zabini. There were voices of agreement around him. "Someone like you wouldn't understand."

A fight was about to break out when Professor McGonagall walked into the scene, yelling out Potter's name. All realised that the boy had succeeded in his endeavour without breaking the sphere he was now holding onto. Furious, she insisted on taking him away despite the protests of a few token Gryffindors.

Zabini gloated. "Now, don't you talk back to us, Granger. We are your betters, after all." The seemingly inevitable inter-House battle was about to take place when Madam Hooch strode in, yelling "WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?"

Patil raised her hand. "Zabini was making fun of Neville and insulting Hermione's heritage, Madame."

The Slytherin reddened considerably under the Instructor's harsh glare. "Twenty points from Slytherin!"

* * *

**Some of the sentences (or phrases) were copied, word for word, straight out of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone; they were from page 108 to 110.**

**I've fixed the previous glitch (the part where Neville told McGonagall that _Draco_ took his Remembrall)... Thanks for pointing it out, NekoDoodle!**


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

After a series of demonstrations and strict training, Madam Hooch had finally called it a day. The first years slowly made for the castle, the Gryffindors and Slytherins chatting with members of their own Houses and staying far apart from each other.

Draco trailed behind the other members of his house, content on enjoying his stroll. Around him, he could hear the other boys arguing amongst themselves; they were either discussing the finer points of Quidditch, or the team that was going to win the next World Cup _for sure_. He cast his thoughts back to the flying lesson.

It had been rather easy for him, truth be told, since a flying instructor had taught him everything there is to know about flying ever since he was five. Father had wanted him to play on the Slytherin House team, preferably as a seeker. Despite this, Draco didn't really care for the sport that much and had no plans to join his House team any time soon. While any average young wizard had Quidditch as their all-time favourite hobby (except for, perhaps, Longbottom?), Draco would rather spend his time reading.

"Draco!" hissed a familiar voice.

The said boy looked around. Everyone were either inside the castle, or more than halfway there. Pansy was approaching him from his right-hand side.

"Hello," he said, cautiously. The last time he had spoken with the Slytherin was at the Sorting. After he had been Sorted into Gryffindor, the girl had largely avoided him. Sometimes, he'd caught her looking intently at him. It was disconcerting, rather.

By this time, she was walking quite close by him. "What, in Salazar's name, was _that_ all about?" She touched his arm, frowning.

He shot her a blank look. "Sorry?"

Her hand clenched his arm tightly as she gave a warning scowl. "Come _off_ it, Draco! Stop playing the innocent; it does _not _suit you at all." She sighed. "Why were you defending the Gryffindorks?"

He jerked his arm away roughly. "In case you haven't noticed, _Parkinson_," he said stiffly, "I happen one of those 'Gryffindorks' you were talking about."

She waved a hand in the air dismissively. "Details, details." She rolled her eyes. "The Hat made a mistake; you're one of us, really."

"Say that to your Housemates, why don't you?" he muttered under his breath before raising his voice. "So, what are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to see you." She shot him a hurt look.

He snorted at those words. "Why now? You've got plenty of time to do so before." Her face brightened.

"You missed me, Drakey?"

"_Don't call me that!_" he scowled irritably. "What are you playing at, Pansy?"

She sobered immediately. "Is it true, then? Rumour has it that you've sided with the Mudbloods and half-bloods." She gave him a searching glance. "Why were you defending Potter?"

He stopped walking. "I wasn't, actually." he said slowly. "I was just trying to diffuse conflict."

"And what's so bad about conflict? Those goody-goody Gryffindorks needed to be taught a lesson."

Draco gave up trying to remind the girl of exactly which House he was a currently member of. "What, by blatantly antagonising them?"

"_Draco!_" She was mortified. "What are you talking about? They've had it coming to them!"

"Well," he drawled, "all I can see is that you lot are digging yourselves a really deep hole. I mean, you're not exactly giving them a reason to see Slytherins in a different light."

"Are you suggesting that we sympathise with _them_?" Pansy asked, incredulous. "Draco, didn't you learn _anything_ from your History lessons? Remember all those witch-hunts that happened in Europe?"

He remembered them, alright. It was because of them that Claudius Malfoy, the scion of the family at the time, had to flee France (with his immediate family) some time during the fifteenth century. Claudius's immediate family had crossed the English Channel with him, while others had made for Corsica or Spain; those who managed to make it to England had lost contact with the rest of their relations.

With them, the Malfoys had brought deep and bitter resentment towards anything to do with the non-magical folk to their new homeland. For one, they had lost their homes — as well as most of their valuables; it had taken quite a while for them to regain their former wealth and status. Also, many of the elders and children had been killed by the mobs of fanatic muggles. They had mostly been unable to defend themselves and, like new-born sheep, had consequently been literally torn apart.

Draco wasn't about to forget the unreasonable persecutions his family had suffered, not at all. Then again, he saw no reason to dig up old history. It was best to let the past lie, undisturbed.

"I haven't forgotten, Pansy." he finally spoke. "But what does it have to do with anything? The half-boods and muggleborns weren't the ones who had wronged us."

She shook her head. "The Mudbloods don't _understand_, Draco. And do you know what they tend to do when that happens?" She paused, presumably waiting for an answer; he stayed silent. "They get _rid_ of those unknowns! They have done so in the past, and what's to say that history won't repeat itself?" She sighed. "And you're still asking for us to get along with them, as well as their sympathisers?"


	10. Chapter 9

**Here's the next chapter (as well as the one after that, which is somewhat short). There won't be any other updates for...around two months, I think.**

* * *

Chapter 9

Draco wandered the halls, staring at the picture of Primroses in his left hand. It was late at night and he should be in bed right now, he knew, but he didn't feel up to it. His mother was feeling desperate, so he deduced that something worrying must be afoot. Perhaps word had reached his parents of his supposed telling-off of the Slytherins?

"What are you doing out here so at this time of night, Malfoy?" asked Granger's voice. He jumped, and looked around. Potter, Weasley, Longbottom, and Granger herself were peering at him from behind the statue of a humpbacked witch.

"I couldn't sleep," Draco ground out. The girl approached and looked at the piece of parchment in his grasp. "Did you draw this? It's really well done."

He snorted. "What would I draw flowers for? Mother's the artist."

"I think you should come with us." Potter interrupted, checking their surroundings. "Or else you might get caught by Filch."

Weasley grabbed at the boy's arm. "What're you talking about, Harry? This is _Malfoy_!" Beside them, Longbottom bobbed his head empathetically.

Potter rolled his eyes. "Look here — he got Sorted into Gryffindor, didn't he? So he must be alright."

Weasley mumbled, "Wouldn't be too sure about that…"

"C'mon, we're wasting time here. you wouldn't want Zabini to get there before us, would you Ron?" The redhead grumbled, but let the matter pass.

"Zabini?" Draco asked Granger as they walked. "What happened?"

"He challenged those two idiots—" she nodded her head at Potter and Weasley— "to a midnight duel." The girl shook her head in strong disapproval and muttered "_Boys!_" under her breath. She didn't say anything about why Longbottom wasn't asleep in the dormitories, so he presumed that the Gryffindor had forgotten the password into the Common Room.

The trophy room was empty. Potter and Weasley walked around, looking around and under all the cases and not finding a thing. They were wondering aloud about the posibility of Zabini being late (or turning out to be a coward) when they heard Flich's voice. Apparently the Slytherins had tipped the duo off.

Everyone ran into the armour gallery, then through a door into another hallway, and so on. They were close by the Charms classroom when Peeves the poltergeist spotted and tipped the students off with a yell. And so they had no choice but to run again; they stopped at the end of the corridor. The door in front of them was locked.

When they heard Filch heading towards them, Weasley started moaning and Longbottom started trembling like mad. Granger rolled her eyes. She pushed the boys out of the way, snatched Potter's wand, and said _"Alohomora!"_ The door opened and they ran inside, shutting it quickly. They listened in relief as Filch shouted at Peeves, who riled the man up instead. Then Longbottom drew their attention to the creature, a dog with three heads, standing in the middle of the room.

_A Cereberus!_ He'd read about them in a book on Magical Creatures. Draco stepped forward, ignoring Granger and the others who were telling him to get away from the monster. He started to sing, softly at first.

The beast, who had gotten up and was ready to bark at them, settled down on the stone floor once more. There were gasps behind him. "Woah," said Weasley. "What did you do to it, Malfoy?" The towhead rolled his eyes, continuing the song.

Everyone stared as the creature laid all three heads on the ground and closed its eyes. Soon afterwards, gentle snoring could be heard in the room. Draco gestured for Granger and the others to go. He turned back to the dog.

When he was sure that the creature was asleep, he slowly stepped back and got out of the room. He closed the door and leaned against it, sighing in relief.

"What happened back there, Malfoy?" asked Potter. "What _was_ that, anyway?"

Draco looked about him. Good— Filch was nowhere in sight. "That was a cereberus, Potter. It goes to sleep when someone plays music to it." He paused, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. "I suppose it's the reason Dumbledore warned us against coming into this corridor."

All walked in silence up the Gryffindor Tower and through the portrait. When they entered the Common Room, Weasley sank into an armchair with relief. "That was a close one, right Harry?" He nodded at Draco. "Good thing Malfoy here knew what to do." Everyone murmured their thanks.

Granger, who had been silently fuming for some reason, huffed. "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Potter suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."

"No, _not_ the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something."

This caughe Draco's interest. "What, really?"

Granger scowled and got to her feet. "I hope you're pleased with yourselves."she said to Potter and Weasley. "We could all have been killed — or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

"Why would getting expelled be worse than getting killed?" Draco wondered aloud. Why'd someone choose death over getting kicked out of school?

"Your wand gets broken and you're forbidden to use magic." said Potter.

"What's so terrible about that?" His mind was filled with images of the 'telly' and horseless carriages and the Muggle books in his trunk. Three sets of eyes stared at him. He hastily faked a cough. "Er… it's getting late now. Let's call it a day." He waved at them and shuffled off to the dormitory.

* * *

**Some of the sentences (or phrases) were copied, word for word, straight out of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_; they were all from page 120.**


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Draco was pleasantly surprised when Potter and Weasley sat down beside him at breakfast.

"Have you been reading the _Daily Prophet_?" asked Potter.

"No." He wondered what they wanted to talk to him about.

Weasley placed a piece of parchment on the table and pushed it towards him. The towhead picked it up; it was a newspaper cutting on a break-in at Gringotts on 31 July.

"Remember the day you met me at Diagon Alley?" asked Potter.

"What? You've met him before?" Weasley blurted out.

"I'll tell you about it later, Ron." Potter turned back to the towhead. "It was July 31st. The bank must've been broken into some time during that day." He spoke of seeing Hagrid pick up a small package and how the gamekeeper must've taken said item to Hogwarts. "I'll bet _that_'s what the dog's guarding."

"So why're you telling me this?" Draco asked, his mind churning with guesses of what the package was.

"We thought you should know," said Weasley. "After all, you were there with us. _And _you practically saved our lives."

"Have you told Longbottom and Granger?"

A nod. "None of them really cares."

Weasley added, "But who cares about Hermione, anyways? She's such a bossy know-it-all."

"You shouldn't say that," Draco raised an eyebrow him. "She just doesn't want us to lose Gryffindor any house points. Or get ourselves expelled and such."

"So you're not with us, either?" Potter looked disappointed. For a moment, Draco wondered if they needed him for singing the dog to sleep again. He shook the thought out of his head.

"Are you kidding me? Of _course_I am!" His face acquired a wistful look. He'd spent the majority of his pre-Hogwarts years within the boundaries of the family estate; while the gardens were nice and pleasant, he'd often wondered what laid beyond the Manor gates. "I've always wanted to go on adventures…"

The other two looked surprised at the last statement. "He's alright," Weasley muttered grudgingly. "We'll see you then…Draco."

Said boy raised an eyebrow. "Fine by me, Weasley. Potter."

Potter shook his head. "Call me Harry."

"And I'm Ron," the redhead piped up.

Draco grinned.

* * *

"So," said Granger as they sat down on opposite sides of the table in the library, gesturing at the book in his hands. "You've read _Animal Farm_, too?"

The boy smiled wryly. "Yes, although I thought that the book was really about the animals when I first picked it up." He paused, deep in thought. "Why are you here, really? Didn't Brown, Patil, or one of our Housemates warn you about me? Or, rather, about my family and background?"

"They did, actually." The girl leaned forward, an earnest look in her eyes. "Though I must admit I'm quite curious— why would, and I quote, a 'rich, spoilt, pure-blooded, Dark, and Slytherin Malfoy' like you read Muggle books? Or know about them, even?"

"Concerning the Muggles…I've observed them — first-hand, mind — in their natural habitat." He deadpanned.

It took merely a minute for her to realise that he had cracked a joke…well, _attempted _to, rather. She had probably been imagining the towhead in a Muggle lab coat, with a clipboard and pen in hand, taking notes on the figures moving around inside some enclosed environment (e.g. a cage).

It took less time for her to realise the implications of his words. Her eyes widened. "You've actually gone into the Muggle world?"

"Come, come, Granger." Draco rolled his eyes. "Where _else_ would I get those books from?"

She gesticulated wildly. "I don't know…a Wizarding-Muggle bookstore? The black market?"

He snickered. "Nevermind that, Granger. Don't you want to hear about my brief exploration of your world?"

"Maybe after I finish the History of Magic essay on Urg the Unclean and the Goblin rebellion of 1756." she said, frowning.

He sighed. "But that's not due until next week!"

"Which means that you'd have more time on your hands instead of finishing it at the last minute."

"I'll work on it later, then." he put the book back into his bag and took out _Le Petit Prince_ instead. The witch sniffed, shook her head exasperatedly, and turned back to her homework."

* * *

**Some of the sentences (or phrases) were copied, word for word, straight out of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_; they were from page 105 and 121.**


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" Granger cried out, swishing and flicking her wand. The feather floated into the air. A delighted Professor Flitwick praised her and awarded points to Gryffindor house.

Ron, having been shown up by someone who had been nagging at him about how to pronounce the spell properly, scowled.

Draco rolled his eyes and turned back to the feather in front of him. He spoke the words of the Levitation Spell and waved his own wand accordingly; it flew up after his third attempt. Granger and Flitwick both congratulated him, though the former's smile looked a bit watery.

That damned prat of a Weasley kept on loudly complaining until the class ended, in which the girl promtly fled the classroom. He wondered at her skiving off History of Magic altogether, Granger being someone who follows all the rules. The memory of the witch stressing the importance of finishing one's homework early, along with the smile it brought him, soon faded into worry. Somehow, the effect of Weasley's words was worse than he'd thought. When the bell rang, he ran out immediately.

First he checked the library, assuming that the girl was probably in some corner with her head buried in a book. She wasn't, however, and Madam Pince glared at him when he approached her desk. No, said the librarian, Granger hadn't been in here since morning. He sped off, faintly hearing the woman yelling at him for 'making so much noise in a place of study'.

Next, he went outdoors; perhaps the girl was taking a walk somewhere? He walked around the outside of the castle, the Whomping Willow (out of the grouchy tree's reaching distance, of course), the entire length of the Lake. Then he went to the Greenhouses, the Vegetable garden, the Gatehouse, Hagrid's hut, the pumpkin patch, the paddock and stables…

By the time he went indoors, he wondered if this seemingly meaningless searching was worth it. Almost immediately, he hardened his resolve; since he had gone ahead with this search, he might as bloody well finish it.

Panting and breathing heavily, he climbed up to the seventh floor. " Pig Snout," he told the Fat Lady; the portrait swung open. He checked the Common Room, looking around and asking his housemates if they had seen Granger. They shook their heads, and the other first years said that they hadn't seen her since Charms class. Then he went up to the Girls' dormitory and knocked on the door. Patil opened it slightly and peered at him from behind it.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked. He noticed the lack of hostility in her voice.

"Er… Do you know Granger is? I haven't seen her around."

"What's this?" The head of Patil's friend, a giggling Lavender Brown, appeared behind the door as well. "You want to see Hermione, Malfoy?"

He frowned; what the hell was she getting at? "I was just…kind of worried about her. Weasley was insulting her in Charms."

"I see," said Patil soberly, shooting a stern look at Brown. "She's crying in the girls' toilets— I don't think it'd be a good idea for you to approach her right now though, Malfoy; she wanted to be left alone."

"Oh. Alright then. Er, I'll be leaving, then. Thanks for helping, Patil." He waved good-bye to the girls and left.

* * *

He heeded Patil's advice, and tried to keep himself busy until it was time for the Hallowe'en feast (which will be taking place today).

He practiced _Wingardium Leviosa_ multiple times until he tired of seeing his books, quills, and ink bottles moving about in midair. Then he read _Prince Caspian_. After that, he skimmed a few chapters from _A History of Magic_and reviewed his notes from class. When he finished doing that, he made an outline for his Herbology essay on the Devil's Snare.

Soon, it was time for the feast. Draco headed for the Great Hall, keeping an eye out for Granger and not seeing her. He started walking more slowly, waiting. When he was sure that she wasn't there at all, he sighed and headed for the place Patil had mentioned. After he was absolutely sure that there weren't any other girls (apart from Granger, that is) around or in the restroom, he walked inside.

He thought he'd heard sniffling sounds coming from one of the stalls. "Granger?" he called out. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine!" was the reply. "Go away, Malfoy! You're not supposed to be in here!"

He huffed and crossed his arms. "Well, you don't sound alright to _me_."

"Oh, really?" Flat-sounding laughter rang throughout the chamber.

The boy nodded his head forcefully, a gesture that was quite unnecessary and brought a slight pain to the back of his neck. He rubbed at the sore spot ruefully. "You shouldn't believe everything Weasley said, Granger. He was just being jealous."

"I suppose," admitted the girl. "But he was right, too! No one _can_ stand me!" She broke into a fresh bout of sobs.

Alarmed, he tried to alleviate the situation. "That's not true," he said as soothingly as he could. "I think you're alright." He gave a sheepish grin and smacked himself on the forehead; this was proving to be more difficult than he'd thought.

"I can tell; you _are_ here, after all." Granger had calmed down a bit. "But what about the others? They must think I'm a bossy know-it-all."

"Um," he gulped. "I doubt that being knowledgeable is a bad thing…It depends rather on how you deal with the situations — I mean, our classmates get envious since you're the first to raise your hand up whenever a professor asks a question. I'm sure that's a good thing, but you should… erm… give other people a chance too. And if you see someone struggling with a spell or something, you shouldn't tell them what to do outright; they'd feel annoyed or pressured. Instead, you should give them small advice and suggestions."

There was silence as Granger mulled over his words. Then the girl opened the door. She wiped at her eyes with a sleeve, then gave Draco a small smile. "Thanks," she told him, "for coming to find me and for cheering me up."

He blinked. "You're welcome." He tilted his head up, gazing towards the ceiling. "That's what friends are for, right?" He looked back at her. This friendship thing…he had never felt this awkward when he was with Dobby. Then again, the elf was his only friend and so he wasn't exactly a professional at inter-human relations.

She hid another smile behind a hand. "I'm sure." Then she folded her arms and gave a mock-stern frown. "In that case, I _insist_ you call me Hermione."

"Right," he muttered, "Hermione."

As though they have just been introduced to each other, the two of them shook hands.

"Now that you're feeling better," he said after a moment or so, "let's go to the Great Hall. We've a Hallowe'en feast to attend." She agreed. They were about to leave the restroom when they encountered an obstacle—

A troll, of all things...

Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite grey, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

Beside him, Hermione screamed. Scowling heavily at the hideous thing, he pushed the distressed girl behind her. He hurriedly came up with a list of spells he'd read about in his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook, then held up his wand.

"_Impedimenta!_" The troll continued to lumber towards them. He cursed.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" Nope, didn't work.

"_Confundo!_" He couldn't tell if the charm worked or not; the creature already _looked _Confunded.

Perhaps the spells he had been using were far too advanced? It was his first time trying them out, truth be told. He was trying to come up with a plan when the door swung open.

In rushed Harry and Weasley. The former yelled for some sort of distraction; the latter wrenched a tap off of the sink and chucked it. The troll halted, noticed Harry, and started walking towards him. Ron shouted to get its attention, flinging something else at its head. As the monster made for the boy, Draco grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her to the door. She stood frozen by the doorway.

When the creature had cornered the redhead, Harry leapt onto the thing's back from behind. Clinging on tightly, he jammed his wand up its nostrils. The troll groaned and started swinging its club haphazardly.

Draco's eyes focused on the club. "_Wingardium Leviosa!_" The weapon left its grasp, floating up towards the ceiling — then crashed down on its head.

For a moment, everything was silent.

Then Hermione asked if the troll was dead. Harry decided that it was merely unconscious, and wrestled his wand out out of its nostrils…it was slathered in troll bogies.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the them look up. They hadn't realise what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart. Draco had to supress the urge to roll his eyes.

Severus raised an eyebrow at the towhead, then went to look at the troll. Their Head of House glared at all four of them. "What on earth were you thinking of?" she barked. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

There was another moment of silence. Then Hermione spoke up, telling the adults that she had wanted to take on the troll herself — she'd read all about them— and that if the boys hadn't came for her then she would've died. McGonagall relaxed slightly. She berated Hermione and took away points for her foolishness and dismissed the girl. After that, she awarded Draco, Harry, and Ron five points each for defeating the troll and managing to survive.

Then the woman left, with a jittery Quirrell trailing behind her. Severus gave Draco a glance, then walked away as well. The boy noted that the man was limping.

* * *

**Some of the phrases, sentences, or passages were taken directly from pg. 121, 127, 129, and 131 of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_.**


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Everyone was looking forward to the first Quidditch match of the year, which was to be taking place at noon of that day. Gryffindor was playing against Slytherin — with Harry Potter as seeker. They couldn't wait to watch how the game turned out.

At breakfast, Hermione and Ron and Finnigan were trying to talk Harry into eating some food; the boy was feeling too nervous.

Draco, who sat beside Granger, ignored the lot of them and continued staring at the picture Mother had sent him a few days ago. There had been few messages from Narcissa, and no packets of sweets (which she had promised to send every week) at all; Father must've told her not to contact him.

The Gryffindor had, apparently, been digging himself a hole with a depth of titanic proportions since who knows when — and from where he was now standing at, the last glimmer of light had begun to dim.

In the vase stood an abundance of wilting Honeysuckles, some Jasmine flowers, and a couple of drooping Pansies. In the background were falling Cherry Blossoms, some of them with a few petals plucked off.

Father was being a hypocrite, Draco thought firmly to himself; he decided to write home as soon as possible. Stuffing the piece of parchment into his bag, he left for the library. While he was walking, the boy cast his thoughts back to what had happened on Hallowe'en.

Not for the first time, he wondered at himself for trying to save Hermione from the troll. When the girl had thanked him, the explanation he'd came up with was 'because no-one deserves to get done in by a troll'. It was lousy, he knew, but what else could he had said? He hadn't gotten hang of this friendship thing yet. Shaking his head, he looked around for a place to sit.

* * *

When it was time for the match, he made for the Quidditch pitch and found a seat beside Hermione and Ron. After looking at the game for a few minutes after it started, he started reading the book he'd brought along with him instead.

The sound of Hagrid's booming voice, some minutes later, drew him away from the book. He looked up to see the man sitting down beside Ron. They nodded at each other in acknowledgement.

Then next time he looked up was when Hermione told them to look at Snape; his godfather was staring unblinkingly at Harry (who, the boy noted with a start, was desperately hanging onto a berserk _Nimbus Two Thousand_) and muttering something under his breath. The girl, after claiming that the Professor was jinxing the broom, left hurriedly. A couple of minutes later, there was a disturbance in the staff's stand; around the same time, Harry's broom stopped going out of control and the seeker hurriedly climbed back onto it.

Draco shook his head; really, what were they thinking? He was sure that Severus wasn't as guilty as he's been accused of being. Sure, he _hated_ Harry…but that didn't mean that he wanted to kill him! For one, it would be a blatantly stupid move — the entire _school_ was watching, for Merlin's sake! For another, what would he want to kill him for? _Voldemort_ was no more, and he's on Professor Dumbledore's side now. Hypothetically speaking, if he _had _done it (and had gotten caught), then he would be in loads of trouble for murdering what the Wizarding world saw as its most famous celebrity. He resolved to ask the Potions Master why he detested Harry so much.

* * *

Hermione nudged him with her elbow after the game. "We're going to Hagrid's hut for tea. Why don't you join us, Draco?" He nodded, putting the book away.

Ron had noticed the gesture. "Blimey, Draco! You've got your head buried in a book the whole time?"

He shrugged, and looked slightly sheepish. "Not really. I did paid _some_ attention to the game…"

Shaking his head, the redhead stood up. "C'mon, then." he said, jerking his head at the giant man who was leaving. The three of them followed; halfway there, they were joined by a jubilant Harry.

Ron thumped the successful Quidditch player on the back, grinning openly. "Great game, mate!" Hermione and Draco congratulated him as well, while Hagrid invited him to the hut.

* * *

The four students sat around the table, murmuring their thanks as they received their cup of tea.

Ron's voice drew his attention away from his tea. "It was Snape," the boy was telling Harry. "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Rubbish." Hagrid frowned. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?" Draco nodded his head in agreement.

Then Harry told the adult that Severus had tried to get past the three-headed dog at Hallowe'en, and had consequently got bitten by it; the Potions Master must be trying to steal whatever it was guarding. Hagrid was shocked, and asked why they knew about Fluffy (funny name, isn't it?). The Cerberus had been purchased from some Greek bloke last year, and the Headmaster had borrowed it to guard…_something_.

"Snape's a Hogwarts teacher," the man told them. "he'd do nothin' of the sort."

Hermione blurted out, "So why did he try and kill Harry? I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contract, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong! I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student!"

Draco added, "I agree with Hagrid; he wouldn't do that."

Ron glared at him. "That's because you're a favourite of his. Remember our first class?" The towhead leaned back on his chair, scowling.

Hagrid bobbed his head at the boy. "Now, listen to me, all of yeh — yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin' that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicholas flamel—"

"Aha!" shouted Harry, triumphant. "So there's someone called Nicholas Flamel involved, is there?"

Now it was Hagrid's turn to scowl.

* * *

**Some of the sentences and/or phrases are taken directly out of pg. 140-142 of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone._**

**Here's the meanings of the flowers in Narcissa's drawing, in _Hanakotoba_:**

**Cherry Blossom — Kind**

**Honeysuckle — Generous**

**Jasmine — Friendly**

**Pansy — Thoughtful/Caring**


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

In the middle of November, Astrid brought Draco a large and fresh bouquet. The Gryffindors around him grinned, whistled, teased, and asked who the sender was. He sourly wondered whether he resembled his housemates at all.

The boy excused himself and left the table, heading outside. He walked all the way to the edge of the lake and sat down. He stared at the bundle of Red Spider Lilies and Sweet pea flowers; it was from Mother, obviously.

They meant that he wasn't to go back to the Manor for Christmas, let alone for the summer…or ever again. He pushed a small voice, which saw this turn of events as good news, as far as he could. How could he feel relief at having been spared from the customary Pureblood winter parties, at a time like this?

With slightly trembling fingers, he opened the envelope that came with the posy. Inside was a piece of parchment filled with his Mother's elegant, flowing cursive font.

_Comment vas-tu, Draco?_

_Ne vous en faites pas; je vais assez bien. J'ai commencé récemment un petit projet: l'horticulture. Dans mon jardin, il y a beaucoup de lavandes, de roses blanches, de verveines, et de zinnia. L'effet qui résulte est simplement réconfortant._

_Tu me manqueras beaucoup, mon cher petit dragon._

* * *

The very next week, he received a note from Father's eagle owl, Constantine. _Go to Dumledore's office this Saturday at one o'clock — Lucius Malfoy._

He stared at the words. He should've expected this since he had received the bouquet — indeed, he _had_ anticipated this — but there was a part of him that still felt bewildered upon reading the words.

* * *

In terms of academics, he was doing quite well — as usual — in all of his classes. Hermione was the favourite of all Professors (except Severus, of course), also as per usual. What had changed was that the girl now dragged Harry and Ron along, once a week, for study sessions in the library; the two of them stewed in boredom whenever they were told to go over their notes and was fine… until the weekend arrived, that is.

Having eaten breakfast, Draco returned to the dormitory to sleep; he was too nervous to do anything else. At noon, he trudged back to the Great Hall for lunch. Since he didn't have much of an appetite, he merely munched on pieces of fresh carrot and celery (and even then, he thought that his stomach felt odd).

Slowly, he climbed his way up to the second floor and down a corridor to gargoyle statue which guarded the entrance. "Drooble's Best Blowing Gum," he said to it. Dumbledore had approached, sans twinkles in his eyes, and given the password to him two days earlier.

The gargoyle jumped to the side; the wall behind it split into two and revealing a spiral staicase. The moment he climbed onto the first stone step, the staircase moved and slowly brought him in front of a large, wooden door. He knocked twice, then entered.

He peered around the room at the myriad of portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses, a large cabinet, the weird silver thingamajigs standing on various tables, the desk. Taking a quick look at each item, he decided to not touch any of those strange metallic items for fear of accidentally breaking one of them.

Beside the desk was a golden perch, atop which rested a phoenix. It flew over, in a flash of crimson and gold, to settle onto his shoulder. The creature started making delightfully sweet music. Hesitantly, he raised a hand and petted it. When he was sure the bird wouldn't harm him, he smiled and stroked its head softly.

He wasn't sure how long he had sat in wait, keeping his attention on the phoenix and trying to not think about what was to come. The door swung open all too soon. In walked a serious Professor Dumbledore, with an apathetic Lucius Malfoy strolling alongside him and a scowling Professor Snape trailing close behind them both.

The old man halted when he noticed the boy, who was looking paler than usual, and gave a kind smile that was almost negated by the seriousness of the situation. "Ah," he said. "I see you've met Fawkes."

"Enough with the small talk, Dumbledore." Father snapped. He strode purposefully towards Draco, who tried to move away. He took out a few pieces of parchment and placed them firmly onto the desk in front of the youth. "Sign these." Fawkes burst into a slightly hostile melody, looking disapprovingly at the man.

The child looked over at the papers, and gulped. _I, Lucius Malfoy, hereby relinquishes claim on my son, who shall henceforth be known as Draco only and shall not be recognised as my son…_

"What is going to happen, Fa— er, sir…" he whispered, "if I sign them?"

Lucius executed a nonchalant shrug. The Gryffindor, his face blank, stared.

After a moment, Severus stepped forward and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "As his godfather, I demand the right to become Draco's legal guardian." He glared at the other adults, as though silently daring them to object.

"Fine by me," Lucius drawled. "though I can't imagine what you see in him. He has been nothing but a failure."

The Professor snarled, then turned back to his godson. "Just sign those, Draco." he said calmly. "I'll make sure that I gain custody of you; everything will be fine."

Draco shot a look at the man, then back at the pieces of parchment. Slowly, he signed his name on the necessary lines. Every so often, his hand would tremble; he'd pull it back, not wanting to ruin any of the papers.

When he was finally done, he dropped the quill with uncharacteristic clumsiness and sank back into his seat. Fawkes nuzzled his cheek, singing a soothing song. Lucius Malfoy snatched the papers and, after bidding good-day to Snape and Dumbldore, left.

* * *

He woke up late the very next day, having had trouble falling asleep the night before.

As soon as he left the dormitory, he was surrounded by a gaggle of housemates on his way out. They asked him how he was feeling, if he was alright, if they could do anything for him. All looked at him with eyes of sympathy and pity.

This continued all the way to the Great Hall and the Gryffindor table, along which people he had never seen before approached him for similar inquiries.

It was damn well annoying, all that attention; he'd resolved to not become accustomed to such treatment. People, in general, behaved in an usually consistent manner; soon, they'd fall back to ignoring (or disliking, even) him again. He was sure of it.

Scowling, he dug into his breakfast with more zeal. Ron pushed a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ towards him with a hand.

_Malfoy Heir Disowned! (See page four…)_

He tossed the newspaper, purposely and carelessly, onto the table. Frowning mightily, he sipped at his goblet and resumed eating.

"Why didn't you tell us, Draco?" Hermione demanded.

The towhead glared. "Why should I?" he asked, his teeth tightly clenched.

"Because then we'd be able to help." said Harry quietly. Beside him, Ron nodded hastily as he continued to stuff himself with food.

"I doubt it." The towhead calmly placed the cutlery on the plate. "If you'll excuse me…" He nodded jerkily at the three of them before departing.

* * *

**Here's the meaning of the flowers, in _Hanakotoba_:**

**Red Spider Lily — never to meet again**

**Sweet pea — goodbye**

**Here's the translation to Narcissa's note:**

**_How are you, Draco?_**

**_Don't worry about me; I'm doing well enough. In fact, I have recently started on a little project: horticulture. In my garden, there are a lot of Lavender (faithful), White Roses (devotion), Verbena (cooperative), and Zinnia (loyalty). The resulting effect is simply heartwarming._**

**_I'll miss you very much, my dear little dragon._**


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The school term had finally ended, giving way to the start of the holidays. Most of the students had left, and were now most likely feeling comfortable and content in the midst of their homes. The rest of them had stayed either because they had nowhere else to go, no home to return to, or had simply wanted to stay.

This meant that Draco didn't have to deal with crowds of sympathetic people anymore, which was a relief. Harry, Hermione, and Ron had stayed as well, but he was good at avoiding people he didn't want to see.

And, so, Draco spent most of his time by himself, exploring Hogwarts.

He found out that the kitchens were located in the dungeons; one could get there by leaving through the door that was to the right of the main staircase in the entrance hall, walking along a hallway filled with pictures of food until one stumbles across the painting of a fruit bowl. By tickling the pear on the canvas (yes, at first he had found this odd as well), said item turns into a handle using which one could open the door. Soon, he was eating there more often than he did in the Great Hall; while the house-elves were very friendly and accommodating, they would unwittingly made him home-sick sometimes. They even acted in the same way as the ones in the Manor did if he started being nice to them.

The Hufflepuff room was found close by the kitchens. He avoided going there, as the people in that house tend to be part of his mob of sympathisers.

On the ground floor were the broom cupboard, the staff room, and Filch's office. None of these places were of any interest to him, though.

The Hospital wing was on the first floor. He only visited the place once, and briefly at that, poking his head through the doors to see what was beyond them. He resolved to stay out of there as much as he could; it was covered largely by the monotonous hue of white and was, therefore, dull. Professor McGonagall's office was on this floor as well, some distance from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He hasn't seen the room's interior, yet, and wasn't curious enough to attempt to venture inside.

There was a girl's bathroom, which was out of order and haunted by a ghost called Moaning Myrtle. He would've liked her if she hadn't kept wallowing in self-pity.

The third floor contained the statue of a humpbacked witch that hid the entrance to a shadowy passageway, which led to who-knows-where (he daren't try to find out). Then there were the trophy room and armour gallery, which he had seen before on the night they came across 'Fluffy'. Speaking of that creature…he'd started to visit it quite often.

Every time, he would bring an ornate music box (he had gotten it, along with the majority of his belongings, from Dobby; the elf'd been under orders from Lucius to get rid of most of his possessions). It would open up to reveal a stone-carved miniature of a sleeping dragon; one would rotate clockwise to play music, and counter-clockwise to switch the song. Sometimes he would open the music box and place it in such a way that if the door opened even one tiny bit, the lid would slam shut. Then he would either do his school work, read a book, or take a short nap.

One of the corridors of the fourth floor lead to a large chamber devoid of anything but a large, extravagant-looking mirror that stood in the centre of the room. On the top of it were the words 'Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi'. _I show not your face but your heart's desire._

When he looked into its reflective surface, he saw himself — though he wasn't alone.

Narcissa, who was laughing and smiling prettily. Lucius, who gazed at his wife and child with eyes both soft and fond. Severus, whose face was lit up with pure happiness. Dobby, standing right beside them all, as Draco's official best friend. Beside his family — and he briefly wondered at this — stood Hermione, Harry, and Ron.

Draco never went back to that room again.


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Before he knew it, Christmas was upon them. He hadn't expected to get anything — and he didn't, for the most part.

His godfather had gotten him books, one on magical creatures and the other on potions. Hagrid had given him a large slice of cake that nearly broke his teeth when he bit into it; he'd ended up giving it to Fluffy instead. The Cerberus kept the gift as a plaything of sorts instead, tossing it about until it broke down and completely disintegrated some days later.

He ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner with Severus in his office. As both couldn't stand the holiday cheer that had enshrouded the Great Hall, they dined together in companionable silence. He spent the rest of his time in the library, reading various books.

It was quite late when he was on his way back from the library; the corridors were practically empty, as the students were in their Common Rooms.

There was a sharp _crack!_ as his very first friend appeared.

"Dobby! What're you doing here?"

The house-elf gave a grin. "It is Christmas, Master Draco." it squeaked.

The boy shook his head. "You shouldn't call me that; I'm not a Malfoy anymore."

The elf had one of the looks which implied something of great importance. "Of course you are, young Master!" it cried out. "All the house-elves in the Manor, Dobby included, still recognise Master Draco as our Master. Master Draco had been too kind to us and—" it scrunched up its face, as though it was about to burst into tears.

Hastily, the human rushed forward. "It's alright, Dobby." He gulped. "There's no need to cry about this."

Dobby gave a couple of loud sniffs, then wiped at its eyes. His face relaxed into a smile. "Dobby is here to give Master Draco his present!"

"Really? You shouldn't have…"

"No, no!" it shook its head quickly. "Dobby insists!" Then it added, "Gully and Trixy and the others helped too." The house-elf handed over two packages.

The first contained a box of Candied Dahlias. "Dobby knows that Master Draco likes this kind of sweet very much," the elf told him.

The second was a bangle of white jade, with an intricate celtic pattern carved onto the stone surface. "To keep Master Draco safe," were the only words Dobby divulged. "This is a gift from Dobby and the other house-elves. We are all very worried for Master Draco."

Draco looked at the items in his hands. "Thank you, Dobby." he half-whispered.

* * *

"I can't _believe_ you two!" Hermione flung her hands up in the air in resignation. "You've got so much time on your hands, and you didn't even _think_ about doing something useful?"

"We were on holiday." Ron mumbled. "C'mon, Hermione, cut us some slack!"

The girl shook her head, exasperated, then turned to the person who happened to be sitting beside her. "What about you, Draco? Have you found out who Nicholas Flamel is?"

Said boy paused, then put down his spoon. "Well," he began sheepishly, "not exactly…but I do know who he is." He paused, unsure of how to continue.

"Go on," she said, gesturing impatiently.

"He's a friend of Professor Dumbledore's, as well as an alchemist who became famous for creating the Philosopher's Stone."

"Which is…?"

"Something that turns metal into gold, and could be used to make the Elixir of Life — which makes the person who drinks it live forever."

"There you are!" Hermione exclaimed. "_That_must be what Fluffy's guarding. I bet Flamelasked Dumledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it. That's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from dying!" said Harry. "No wonder Snape's after it! _Anyone_ would want it."

"Professor Snape is _not_ trying to get the Stone!" Draco crossed his arms. "Besides, what would you need it for? Only _fools_ would want it." He thought back to a story he'd once read about.

The other three looked at him as though he were mad.

"Look, Draco." Ron shook his head. "Just because you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth doesn't mean that everyone else sees money the same way you do."

The towhead stared. "Really, Ron! Wouldn't you feel better if you earn it _by yourself_, instead of having it given to you?"

Harry cut in, "And I'm sure that Snape is trying to get at the Stone. Didn't you see him limp after Hallowe'en? He'd got bitten by Hagrid's three-headed dog."

Draco opened his mouth to protest, but was interrupted by Hermione. "How did you know about him in the first place?"

He shrugged. "He's mentioned on Professor Dumbledore's chocolate frog card. And he's in most books on Alchemy and important magical discoveries since historic times."

"And why didn't you tell us this earlier?"

A pause. "Probably because you didn't ask?"

* * *

**A few of the sentences are taken, word for word (more or less) from page 161 of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone._**


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Draco looked up from his essay as Ron called out Hagrid's name. It was odd to find the gamekeeper was in the library; his large frame looked out of place in midst of the towering rows of bookshelves.

The man approached them, his hands behind him as though he was hiding something. He asked if the four of them were still trying to find out who Nicholas Flamel is; Ron told him that they already knew. He started to mention the stone, but was interrupted by the adult. Hagrid dodged all their questions, inviting them to his home instead. The Gryffindors speculated about what he had been hiding, and Ron retraced their giant friend's steps to discover that he had been reading up on _dragons_.

Some time later, they headed outdoors to the hut and realised that something's afoot; the curtains were all drawn and Hagrid asked "Who is it?" before he let them in and then shut the door quickly behind them.

Harry asked if the man knew what was guarding the Philospher's Stone apart from Fluffy.

At first Hagrid denied knowing anything, but came round with a bit of cajoling from Hermione. "Well, I don't s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that…" he paused, thinking. "let's see…he borrowed Fluffy from me… then some o' the teachers did enchantments…" He listed the names of the Headmaster and the teaching staff; when he got to Severus, Harry blurted out the Potions Master's surname in shock.

Hagrid frowned. "Yeah — yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped _protect_the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

Draco scowled as he saw the looks on his housemates' faces. Although his godfather was harsh towards their House — and Harry in particular — it seemed unlikely that the man would want to help _Voldemort_….though said person wasn't exactly convincing anyone; Hermione and the others believed that Severus had refereed the last Quidditch match as to harm Harry (or to make sure that Gryffindor lost). In addition, Harry had told that he had seen the adult threatening Professor Quirrell some time after the game.

Shaking his head, he rose from his seat as to walk around. Suddenly, he caught sight of something in the fireplace — it was a huge, black egg.

_A dragon's egg!_ He walked towards the fire, staring at it.

"Hagrid — what's _that_?" Harry had noticed the thing as well.

The man grinned, showing them the library book he'd taken out earlier. He proudly told the four of them that the egg would hatch into a Norwegian Ridgeback, which was rather scarce in terms of the species' population size (not to mention rather volatile in character, even amongst others of its order). Hermione shook her head, and pointed out that it wasn't safe since the hut was made of wood. She was ignored.

* * *

'_It's hatching_,' said the words on the parchment Harry received at breakfast. Ron and Hermione then started to argue about whether they should skive off class to see Hagrid. Draco noticed that Zabini was standing close by, and had most likely heard what they were saying.

In the end, they decided to visit the hut during morning break. When the time came, they grabbed their things and ran all the way there.

Hagrid greeted them with the words "It's nearly out." The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.

All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The black baby dragon flopped on to the table. It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

Hagrid, calling the newborn 'beautiful', tried to stroke it and got bitten instead. "Bless him, look, he knows his mummy! " He smiled, but suddenly paled and made for the window. "Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains — it's a kid — he's runnin' back up ter the school."

Harry ran out of the door, then came back a moment later. "It was Zabini," he said grimly.

* * *

The four students stared at Norbert, the baby dragon. "It can't stay here," Harry told Hagrid. "Just let it go. Set it free."

Hagrid refused, saying that Norbert needed him and that he had just recently hatched. More arguing enthuses.

All of a sudden, Harry froze. "Charlie!" he cried out, turning to Ron. The redhead shook his head. "You, too, mate? I'm _Ron_, remember?"

The brunet shook his head. "I was talking about your brother; isn't he studying dragons in Romania? We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!"

After many rounds of persuasions and arguments, Hagrid agreed to the plan.

Ron owled his brother, who sent a reply that they received on the following Wednesday. They were to take Norbert, at midnight, up to the tallest tower for some of his friends to pick up.

They experienced a setback, however, when the dragon bit Ron and the bite started to look ugly; the boy had no choice but to go to the Hospital wing. What's more, the Gryffindor admitted that Zabini had strolled in and blackmailed him into lending the Slytherin one of his books — the one that had Charlie's letter stuck in between the pages. After some discussion, they decided that they might as well go ahead, seeing as it may be their only chance to get the dragon away (it was starting to become unmanageable as it grew in size).

When the time came, a teary and sobbing Hagrid reluctantly said good-bye to Norbert. Draco, Hermione, and Harry carried its cage between them under the invisibility cloak. When they turned a corner, they spotted Zabini being cornered by an irate McGonagall. The professor promptly gave him detention and took points from his house, despite the boy's warnings about the Gryffindors coming their way with a dragon in tow. Hermione was ecstatic.

They finally got Norbert up the top of the tower, where they waited for a few minutes before Charlie's friends arrived. Draco hid himself in a corner, leaving his two other housemates to exchange pleasantries.

Relieved at their success, the first years walked down from the tower to come face to face with Filch. The Caretaker brought them straight to their Head of House's study and waited in dreading silence until they saw the witch arrive, followed by Longbottom. She shouted at them for quite some time, then took fifty points from each of them _and_ gave them detention on top of that.

From that moment onwards, the four Gryffindors became the most unpopular individuals in Hogwarts… Though, if one is to go into detail, it was Draco who was getting the worst brunt of it all; somehow, everyone were convinced that he had convinced the others to wander about with him in the first place. But such is life.

The Gryffindors bemoaned losing their chance of winning the House Cup.

The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs felt bitter for losing their chance of seeing Slytherin lose; the house of snakes had won the Cup multiple times already.

As for the Slytherins, this piece of news didn't seem to make much of an impact. Besides, many of they were occupied with being annoyed at how Zabini had lost them fifty house-points.

* * *

**Some of the phrases are taken, word for word, from pg. of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_.**

**Oh, and the 'order' that was mentioned in the part where Hagrid showed them Norbert is this biological term used to classify animals, instead of...an organisation of dragons, or something.**


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"Is that you, Filch?" asked a gruff voice. "Hurry up, I want ter get started." Draco, Longbottom, and the others breathed a sigh of relief; Filch had been ranting about how wonderful it would be if the detentions would include corporal punishment. Surely Hagrid would make theirs more bearable?

Reluctantly, the Caretaker handed them over and left after wishing them luck, saying that he'll return for them at dawn; they were to venture into the Forbidden Forest. Longbottom looked as though he wanted to faint. Zabini paled and said, loudly, that he wasn't going into the Forest (and that they should be writing lines, or something equally harmless, instead). He backed down when Hagrid mentioned possible expulsion if he refused to cooperate.

The gamekeeper led them to the very edge of the lifted his lamp and pointed at something on the ground a few feet away. It was silvery and shiny, and he told them that it was unicorn blood. "There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

Then he reassured them that they'll be alright — as long as they stick with him or Fang, his large boarhound, and didn't wander aroung. "Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggering around since last night at least."

Zabini insisted on going with Fang, and Hagrid acquiesced. Then the man assigned Longbottom and Ron with the Slytherin; the latter turned red. "Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? An' if anyone gets into trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeh." They watched as a pale Longbottom trudged away, with Ron and Zabini and Fang on the right path.

As they walked on the other path, Draco noticed a trail of silver on his left and right. Suddenly Hagrid grabbed hold of the three of them, pushing them behind a tree. He put an arrow into the giant crossbow he had been carrying, aiming it at the source of the rustling noises some distance away. "I knew it," he said grimly. "There's summat in here that shouldn't be." Harry asked if it was a werewolf; the adult shook his head and told the three to follow him.

Then they heard noises again, though this time it was more faint and sounded different than before. Hagrid called out for the being to come forward; a centaur approached them. He greeted and introduced the first years to it.

The creature, whose name was Ronan, looked at them, then up at the sky. "Mars is bright tonight."

Something was going to happen soon. Draco nodded to himself; perhaps the centaur was talking about the Philosopher's Stone?

Hagrid asked it about the injured unicorn, but Ronan ignored him and repeated the sentence. "Unusually bright," the horse-man added. The adult asked again, this time if it had seen anything out of the ordinary; all he received was a vague reply. "The forest hides many secrets."

Further noise rang in the air as another centaur cantered up to the group. Hagrid greeted it, calling the creature Bane and repeating his questions. Funnily enough, it repeated what Ronan had said earlier. Exasperated, the gamekeeper thanked them and led the students away. "Never," he told them, "try an' get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin' closer'n the moon."

They walked for a while until Hermione cried out that she saw some red sparks up ahead. Hagrid ordered them to stay put, then ran off. After a long wait, the man returned with a scowl on his face; Longbottom had set off the sparks after being scared witless by Zabini (who in turn received a punch in the face, courtesy of Ron). Shaking his head, he assigned Draco and Harry to Fang instead.

They walked in silence, looking at the unicorn bloodstains covering the surrounding trees and grass. As they neared a clearing, both spotted a large silver shape on the ground ahead…

It turned out to be the unicorn they were looking for; it had died, though. A figure, absolutely obscured by the black cloak it wore, approached the fallen creature. Then it bent down to where silvery liquid was oozing out, and started to drink.

Fang let out a terrified howl and ran off.

As quietly as he could, Draco grabbed Harry's arm and started to drag him away from the terrible sight; the other Gryffindor was standing stock still, frozen to the spot. And people thought him to be the symbol of _Gryffindor_…

The figure had heard the dog, though, and started towards them. Draco, cursing under his breath, pushed the boy behind him. Then he started flinging spells at it; the figure remained unscathed, having dodged or warded himself from the attacks. It moved forth relentlessly, and was almost onto them when a centaur galloped in and knocked it away with its hooves.

The creature cantered towards them, asking if they're alright and introducing itself as Firenze; they said yes and thanked it. It raised a eyebrow at Draco. "You are Draco Malfoy?" The said boy nodded, thinking quickly.

From what he'd read about centaurs, he gathered that they were far wiser than most wizards and that their customs were intricately related to nature itself. From greetings between friends to alliances with wizardkind, they place nature first and foremost. Slowly, forming the words on his tongue one by one, he said: "May your grazing grounds be ever-plentiful, and its waters pure and sweet."

The centaur looked surprised, then pleased, as he replied in kind. The towhead wondered at the unreadable expression on the other's face, glancing upwards at the sky. Moonlight shone through a ceiling (of sorts) made up of intertwined leaves and branches.

Next, Firenze turned towards Harry. "The forest is not safe at this time — especially not for you. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way." He bent down and allowed the two of them to climb onto its back. Suddenly they heard the sound of hooves.

The two centaurs they had met earlier went up to them. Bane was yelling, clearly disapproved of Firenze's allowing humans to ride him. The latter protested that this was an exception (since Harry was there and, being whom he was, they can't let him wander around in the dark), though the former was still displeased. Finally, Firenze had enough. Loudly declaring his willingness to side with humans against the menace they'd encountered earlier, he sped away.

As they galloped, Harry asked Firenze what the figure was. After a moment, the centaur told them that drinking unicorn blood can prolong one's life — while condemning the drinker at the same time. His words also implied, rather heavily, that the blood-drinker was _Voldemort_.

Hermione arrived soon after, followed close behind by Hagrid and the others. Firenze left them with the words "The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times."

* * *

**Some of the phrases have been taken, word for word, from pg.181, 183-185, 187, and 189 of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_.**


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Draco knelt before Fluffy, stroking one of the sleeping beast's heads. Violin music rose into the air behind him from his music box, which was propped peculiarly against the locked door.

"It's all very simple for you, isn't it?" he asked the Cerberus. "All you have to do is eat, drink, and guard that trapdoor." He stared at the small bit of floor, which was wooden and half-covered by one of its large paws. "I envy you, sometimes." He stared at his pale, bare hands, then at the creature's furry ones.

Father— no, _Lucius_… the man disowned him for acting cordial to everyone, especially the muggleborns whom he had deemed inferior. Draco didn't understand why; Hermione wasn't pureblood and she had top marks. He didn't see how being rude to select people was going to help him anyway — wouldn't that merely give people bad impressions and, in turn, drive them away? If he were to act as proper as Zabini, that would mean turning his back on loads of people, which he thought was far from wise. Didn't the Muggles have this phrase…how did it go again? Oh, right: _what goes around, comes around_.

Because of him, _Mother_… she couldn't contact Draco. He wondered at how she was faring, at whether she truly missed him. Did she feel ashamed at whom he had become, despite having written otherwise in her letters? The boy hadn't felt as though he'd gone through some sort of life-changing transformation, and couldn't imagine himself insulting and sneering at non-purebloods (in other words, acting like Zabini and his ex-'friends').

His godfather had approached him some time ago with the news that he'd applied for custody of Draco. They were to go to the ministry to sort things out a week before school ended. The man had vowed, adamantly, that he was going to do everything in his power (and more) so that the Gryffindor can come home with him when summer comes round. He had spoken of his house on Spinner's End which, while it may not have the grandeur or comforts of Malfoy Manor, should be good enough an abode for the two of them after he cleaned it up a bit.

Speaking of school, exam-time had arrived and everyone was struggling under the strain of studying and reviewing their lessons. Draco thought that he did alright on them so far. He was sure he had passed Potions, as he had found the Forgetfulness potion easy to make. Though Hermione had been a pain for insisting on their memorising every single detail from their notes, he had yet to speak with either her, Harry or Ron. They were still convinced that Severus was loyal to Voldemort, and that he was after the Stone.

_Creeeaaak…_

The door slowly opened, and caused the music box to immediately close itself. Draco backed away from Fluffy, humming a tune under his breath. He turned around and found, to his surprise, Professor Quirrell staring back at him.

"Professor!" he exclaimed, reaching his the wand. He was about to pull it out when the man shouted "_Stupefy!_", in a voice loud and clear. Everything went black.

* * *

He sat upright and rubbed at his right arm. It was sore, as though he had landed on it (good thing it wasn't the limb on which he wore the bangle from Dobby; he wans't sure if it was near-indestructible or not). Hermione pulled away his wand and looked at him worriedly, along with Harry.

"Are you alright?" she asked. He shook his head, pointing at the arm.

"Did Snape cast any curses or hexes on you?" Harry demanded with a scowl.

Draco glared. "Why would he? He's my godfather!"

They frowned at him as Ron approached, the open music box in hand. "Is this yours, Draco?" The towhead nodded and accepted the item.

"What were you doing here, anyways?"

He shrugged. "Nothing important." He looked around; the chamber was empty apart from the four of them and Fluffy. "Quirrell went ahead, didn't he?"

"Professor _Quirrell_?!" The three others exchanged concerned looks, to his great annoyance. "Are you sure it wasn't Snape?"

"_Look,_" he said sharply. "Were you the one who got Stupefied? _No._I saw the attacker with my own eyes; it wasn't Professor Snape."

Ron shook his head, murmuring "His memory's got modified," to Hermione and Harry. The other two nodded their heads grimly.

Draco shook his head, resigned; they were wasting time here! "Never mind," he mumbled. "You're here to go through the trapdoor, right?" They nodded. "Well, go on, then. I'll tell Dumbledore—"

"He's at the Ministry," Harry cut in.

"— the other Professors, then, about where you're heading."

Ron frowned. "You're chickening out, aren't you?"

Hermione sighed. "He's right, you know." She turned to look at the redhead, then at the brunet. "What if something happens to us? It's better for someone who knows what's _really_ happening to stay behind."

"Wait a minute — what time is it right now?"

The others looked bemused. "Midnight, actually." Harry handed over his invisibility cloak. "Here— you'll be needing this."

Draco accepted it. He thanked and bade his fellow housemates good-luck, then watched as they slid down through the trapdoor. He looked at the darkness beyond the opening for a while before closing it shut.


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

An invisible Draco raced down the corridor, with only the thought of finding the Headmaster — or one of the Professors — on his mind. Hermione and the others may be in danger right now, and the sooner he told one of them, the better. They were, after all, dealing with _Voldemort_.

He was running down a flight of stairs, still in deep thought, when he bumped into someone. They ended up falling onto the stone floor, and the invisibility cloak fell off the towhead as he pushed himself off the ground. He quickly gathered the cloak, folded it, then shoved it into a pocket.

A friendly looking girl with mousy brown hair and dark eyes got up and looked down at him, concerned. He noticed her Hufflepuff robes. "Alright there, Draco?" she asked.

He frowned. "You know who I am?" Then he berated himself; of _course_she would! He had the characteristic Malfoy eyes and hair. "Er, never mind."

She grinned. "The name's Nymphadora Tonks …though I _insist _that you call me Tonks; my birth name's rather silly." She held out a hand, which he took and shook warily. "I've wanted to meet you for a long time now — ever since you've gotten yourself Sorted into the lion's House, actually. Mum was surprised, too." She noticed his blank look. "Her name is Andromeda." When he still didn't react, she added: "She was a Black, before she got disowned for marrying my dad."

"Oh!" He recalled the scant times when Mother had mentioned, briefly, about having a sister (besides Aunt Bellatrix, who was in Azkaban) who'd turned undermined family and pureblood traditions by eloping with a Muggleborn. "You're my cousin, then?"

She nodded brightly. "Yes, that's right."

He was suddenly struck by the odd realisation that the two of them were having a family reunion of sorts in an empty, dark corridor. "So what were you doing out here, Cousin Tonks? It's rather late, and you're not a Prefect."

She suddenly looked embarrased. "I fell asleep in the library; when I tried to get back to the Common Room, the staircase changed and I got lost." She shrugged. "What about you?"

How could he have forgotten? "I need to see Professor Dumbledore! It's about Hermione, Harry, and Ron; I think they may be in trouble right now."

She sobered up and nodded quickly. "I'll come with you," she said.

* * *

"Draco! And Miss Tonks!" It was not Professor Dumbledore who was waiting for them in the Headmaster's office, but Professor McGonagall.

"Hello, Professor." the said duo chimed.

"What brings you two here at this time of night…day?" The Gryffindor Head of House gestured at the seats in front of the desk. "Go on, take a seat and explain yourselves." They sank into the chairs.

The Hufflepuff turned to look at the first-year to her left. "My cousin is here on urgent business, Professor. I'm just accompanying him."

Draco leaned forward slightly. "It's about the Philosopher's Stone, ma'am."

"What, really?" Tonks cut in. "It actually _exists_?"

"Indeed, Miss Tonks." The Professor gestured at the boy. "Please, let's listen to what Mister Malfoy has to say before making any comments." A pause. "Miss Granger, Mister Potter, and Mister Weasley had approached me yesterday afternoon on the subject. They claimed that Professor Snape was after it — what about the Stone, Mister Malfoy?"

The Gryffindor took a deep breath. He wished that she would stop calling him that; it reminded him of Lucius. "_Well_, they may be going after it right now. And it's not Professor Snape who wants it, ma'am, but Professor Quirrell."

She scowled. "Professor _Quirrell_?" she repeated in disbelief. "That man is the least likely to steal the Stone. He'd became rather short on nerves after his trip to Albania; I'm sure he wouldn't hurt a fly."

He bit his lip. "I'm quite sure, Professor." Then he started and looked around the room. "Where's Professor Dumbledore?"

"He'll be returning from the ministry any minute, now; I shall inform him of Mr. Quirrell and your friends when he comes back." She nodded at the two of them. "You two should head back to your dormitories, or else you won't get enough sleep. Ten points," she looked at Draco, "for helping out your friends. And another ten points," she looked at Tonks, "for helping out a younger student. I'll see you both at breakfast."


	21. Chapter 20

**In regards to Schuikichiro's review...thanks for pointing out McGonagall's not worrying too much about Hermione and the others (I hadn't thought about that, actually). As for Draco's role in the plot-line...I've read quite a few fics where he accompanies the Trio on all of their adventures — it gets redundant after a while, so I decided to write in a different direction. As for the fact that Draco's presence doesn't change anything, well...let's just say that this fic won't be deviating from the canon plot-line for quite a while (sorry). **

**Well, on with the story, then...**

* * *

Chapter 20

Draco walked down on the pavement with a smile, which the dingy surroundings failed to rub off, wearing Muggle clothing. A 'Duffle coat', to be exact. He didn't mind, though; it looked alright and it was rather comfortable.

Severus strode alongside him, wearing an 'Inverness cape' — which was rather similar to the black cloak he'd worn while spending time in the Wizarding world — and muttering about Professor Dumbledore and his 'insipid favouritism of Gryffindors'. Slytherin had lost the House Cup due to the Headmaster's last-minute dishing out of house-points to Hermione, Harry, Ron, and (shockingly enough) Longbottom.

Draco reminded him, cheerily, that he was in the company of a Gryffindor at the moment. His godfather turned around to face him. "You're an exception," the man insisted, "since you're a Slytherin at heart." The boy shrugged. He wouldn't be too sure about that… Shaking his head, the boy looked around.

Spinner's End was an unsavoury place, of a sort Lucius'd immediately peg as 'an example of the wretchedness of Mudbloods' should he ever drop by. There was a river closeby which had been dirtied by what Severus called 'human development'. (Draco couldn't think of how making the water putrid and full of rubbish would be seen as 'development', and decided to chalk it up to a difference in opinion.)

The town, heavily sunken in shadows, contained streets that were surrounded on both sides by houses that looked the same as each other; it was neither exactly creative nor quaint, seeing a large part of the dwellings were ramshackle and deserted. He couldn't see any gardens about, and the few trees they came across were either withered or dying. There was gloom and a sliver of hostility in the air.

It was in this place that Severus Snape lived, in a house on the end of the street. And now Draco was to do so as well during the summer months, since the adult had succeeded in gaining custody of him.

Before they had arrived, he'd admitted to his godson that he was, in fact, a Half-blood. It had been surprising, to say the least, and the towhead briefly wondered if Lucius or any of the Slytherins had known about this fact. The man had mentioned his parents fleetingly before smoothly changing the subject; he had a rotten childhood, apparently.

The two turned a corner and Draco gasped. He looked back at the picture of melancholy behind him, then at what laid in front of him. It was as if he had found himself at the border between 'Misery Town' and 'Felicity Village '. The scene in front of him was bright and sunny; there were blossoming flowers, a healthy green field, and nicely-grown shrubs scattered about the ground. In the distance, he spotted some odd-looking structures standing, evenly spaced out, close to each other. "What's that?" he pointed at the aforementioned place.

Severus had a faraway look in his eyes, as though he was reminiscing. "That's a playground."

"Play…ground?" The child repeated, staring at the place for a while. Turning abruptly, he took hold the man's arm and dragged him over to the spot.

He stopped in front of a collection of metal poles, which were joint at the top and connected to some chains that were linked to cresent-shaped things. "What's this?" It looked more like a torture device than a plaything.

"This is a swing." Severus gestured to the cresent-shaped form. "You sit on that and push yourself from the ground."

Draco sat down on the thing — his bangle made a _cling!_ kind of sound when it came into contact with the metal chain — and kicked at the gravelly soil with his feet. He swung forwards and backwards for a bit. "Is that it?" The adult nodded. He gestured at the 'swing' next to him. "Can you show me, sir?"

A long silence. His godfather stood still, silently arguing with himself for quite some time before acquiescing with a sigh. Using both his feet, he launched himself off the ground. He repeated this process a couple of times, swinging himself higher up in the air each time.

Draco copied his movements. It was curiously refreshing to find oneself far away from the ground and getting close to the sky — in fact, he had more fun on this 'swing' than on a broomstick. He burst into delighted laughter, grinning broadly at Severus. Hesitantly, as though he were out of practice, the adult curved his mouth slightly upwards into a small smile.

* * *

**Well, that's it for the first book...I won't be updating for a while, seeing as I haven't got the plot for the second book sorted out yet. So here's something for fanfic writers out there to tinker with in my absence:**

**Hogwarts was founded sometime in the 9th-10th century (according to Rowling, from Wikipedia). What'd it be like for the Muggleborns at that time to find out that they were witches and wizards? Here's an idea for a Harry Potter fanfic: ****An illiterate/barely literate child labourer during the Industrial Revolution (a mine-worker, a doffer, a chimney sweep, etc.) recieves a Hogwarts letter. ****What kinds of adventures would he or she have? I suppose it may sound a little Dickensian...oh, well.**


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